\ 




JV, SIORTT MEMOIR 

Or THE REV 13 




LOUD ON 



1853 




Jt&3 



PREFACE. 



The letters in the Memoir are arranged, for the 
most part, according to the order of time, with the 
exception of those to school-children. They thus 
serve to afford a continued narrative, which the 
Editor has always preferred, if possible, to furnish 
in Mr. Suckling's words, rather than his own ; sup- 
porting them, where necessary, with the testimony 
of others, and introducing such remarks as ap- 
peared desirable to illustrate the life and character 
of his friend. 

Whatever the opinion of the generality may be, 
if the Editor is not greatly mistaken, there are 
some by whom this little volume will not only be 
read with interest, but never again altogether set 
aside ; who will find therein a friend to whom they 
will be glad often to recur, a companion in the hour 
of affliction and solitude, with whom it will ever be 
a relief to converse ; and that among these will be" 



PREFACE. 



numbered, not only such friends and acquaintance 
as saw his face in the flesh, but some also who 
have never yet heard of a name which will here- 
after be among the dearest which they know — 
that of Eobert Suckling. 

Stinch combe. 
July ISth, 1852. 

From the First Edition. 



Many intimately acquainted with Mr. Suckling 
have written to acknowledge the fidelity of the 
portrait which the following pages exhibit. Per- 
haps it could scarcely have been otherwise, con- 
sisting as the account mostly does of varied tes- 
timony, and such letters of his own as express 
the inner mind of the writer with a singular 
transparency. 

But the Sermons have in some degree proved 
an exception to this ; those who first put them 
into the Editor's hands apprehended that they 
might not be entirely his own, or which he could 
have published as such, but in a posthumous publi- 
cation of papers never intended to be so used, it is 
almost impossible to ascertain this, and the Editor 
was obliged to relinquish all hope of doing so. But 
he was led by degrees to abandon these his appre- 



PBEFACB. 



t 



hensions, by finding them to bear so strongly the 
marks of Mr. Suckling's own character and feelings, 
as both illustrating them and illustrated by them. 
In the progress of publication he was induced 
to allude to this fact, and adduced them as such. 
He has since learned that four out of the number 
were in a great measure derived from printed 
sources ; one from Bishop Home, another from 
Archdeacon Manning, and two from a late Minister 
of the Free Kirk in Scotland. Yet, notwithstand- 
ing this, they have been so selected by him as ex- 
pressive of his own mind, and appear to have been 
so adapted by him, and interspersed with passages 
unmistakeably his own, as not materially to lessen 
what was stated of them as evidences of his charac- 
ter and ministerial progress. They speak himself. 
And many who have been well aware of these cir- 
cumstances, have requested that the Sermons which 
they so much valued both for his own sake— as 
modified by him and made so much his own — and 
also from their intrinsic usefulness, might not be 
altogether withdrawn. It is intended therefore to 
republish most of them in a separate form. It seems 
not to have been Mr. Suckling's custom ever to have 
transcribed entirely the Sermons of another ; but not 
unfrequently to have altered them for his own use. 
It. has been indeed suggested that the only ones 
which he has not destroyed may be of this kind, 
and retained by him as such, while his own were 
not. But his habit latterly was that of preaching 
extempore. 



Dm 8<frW &c 



vi 



PREFACE. 



Some letters which, before were added in an 
Appendix have now found their appropriate place 
in the body of the Memoir, together with six or 
seven additional ones, which were not before 
published. 

Stinchcombe, 
Dec. 12th, 1852. 

Second Edition. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Early Life. 1818—1843. .... 4 

Kemerton. 1843—1846. . . . 10 

Bussage. 1846. . . . . .28 

Devotion and Sympathy. 1849 — 1850. . 56 

Care of the Young and the Poor. . .113 

Religious Opinions. 1850. . . . 137 

The Penitentiary. 1851. . . . .166 



a Sfjort jttetttolr 

OP THE 

RE Y. E. A. SUCKLING. 



Thebe is some need of apology in publishing and 
drawing attention to the life of a private individual, 
not known for any remarkable abilities, or service 
done, and whose brief career was not characterized 
by any striking eventful incidents. And for this 
the writer of these memoirs feels himself, in some 
degree, responsible. His life seemed so suddenly 
broken off and taken from our sight ; his funeral, 
in consequence, was felt to be of no ordinary in- 
terest by all that were present ; and the writer, on 
that occasion, could not help feeling, and expressing 
a wish, that some remains might be found which 
might extend and perpetuate the influence of such 
a character beyond the immediate circle of those to 
whom he was personally known. The consequence 
has been that he has been himself asked to prepare 
n 



2 



MEMOIE OP THE 



for publication these few details and letters which 
have been put into his hands. 

The circumstances of his death were impressive, 
and at the same time replete with the truest con- 
solation, notwithstanding its great suddenness ; for 
he had been in Church, taking part in the Holy 
Communion, on the preceding Saturday, being the 
festival of All Saints, and after a short and painful 
illness, he died early on the Tuesday morning. 
The scaffolding on that Saturday had been raised to 
commence enlarging the Church for the purposes of 
the Penitentiary ; it was the great object he had at 
heart ; and his being taken from so noble a work on 
which he had just entered with his characteristic 
energy and devotion of spirit, was indeed to us all — 
to the Church at large — and especially to such poor 
penitents, irreparable. But to himself, one could 
not but feel, in that small funeral, what it was to 
die in the midst of such undertakings. What are 
ail those advantages — those busy, anxious pursuits 
of which, alas ! we are all inclined to think too 
much, compared with the untimely — nay, rather 
most timely — summons hence in the midst of such 
labours ? Rarely is this lesson brought home to 
one with such exceeding power, such heart-felt 
hopefulness and joy, as on that occasion of sorrow. 

The writer of this account could not but be im- 
pressed so much with the little that he knew of 
him, that he longed for others to know as much ; 
for he thought that here and there the knowledge 
of such a character might light on some kindred 



BEY. B. A. STJCKLIKG. 



3 



spirit, and touch the heart, as the personal know- 
ledge had already done so deeply with some of his 
acquaintance. He could not but entertain such a 
wish, but without any knowledge whether any larger 
details of his life, or even any short memorials, might 
be found suited for publication, but sincerely wish- 
ing it might be so. He is truly thankful, therefore, 
that on him has devolved the privilege of putting 
together these few remains, very inadequate as they 
are in themselves, and being himself unable to add 
to them any father reminiscences of his own. 

And if it might be found allowable, there is no 
little comfort in the case of one so prematurely 
taken off in his intentions and beginnings of a great 
and charitable work, without its being granted to 
himself to complete and carry out the same, that 
his example might be permitted to operate, and in 
some degree to carry on those good ends which he 
so earnestly desired ; so that, if it could be effected, 
it is like fulfilling a sacred duty to the deceased : 
and thus, while the materials are but slight, the 
motive for doing so is in some respects more con- 
straining than it would have been in the case of 
one to whom a longer period had been assigned to 
carry on the good which he desired. 

One could wish that more of his correspondence 
could have been obtained for publication ; but the 
little we have will make many desirous to know 
something more of a character from which such 
touching and beautiful letters could have flowed, 
with such spontaneous fulness as denoted the abun- 
33 2 



4 



MEMOIR OF THE 



dance of the heart which they expressed ; and it is 
by small incidents of every-day life that such a 
character is best known. Indeed, there is scarcely 
anything else to narrate of such a life, except those 
great outlines of his short career, in which we can- 
not but contemplate, with awful delight, how a 
wonderful and mysterious Providence brought one 
from the education and life of a sailor, intrepid and 
energetic as family hopes could have wished, and 
born to a large family inheritance ; — through the 
internal Monitor casting off the former, and by 
circumstances bringing about the almost entire 
sacrifice of the latter ; — how, I say, a gracious and 
good Providence should thus, by its own secret 
means have brought him at last to that end, which 
all who saw his body committed to the earth would 
hope might be theirs, beyond any thing which this 
world can afford. 



Early Life. 1818—1843. 

Robert Alfred Suckling was the eldest son 
and heir to the property of the ancient family of 
that name, of Woodton, in the County of Norfolk. 
The name will be familiar to many of us, from the 
mother of Lord Nelson, and her brother, Captain 
Suckling, the professional tutor and early patron of 
the great Admiral. Sir John Suckling, the Poet, 
was also of the same family ; his father, of the same 



BEY. B. A. SUCKLING. 



5 



name, had been Comptroller of the Household and 
Privy Counsellor to King James and King Charles 
the First. 

The name of Suckling will account for our find- 
ing the subject of this memoir on the sea at an 
early age as on his own element. He entered the 
service in the year 1831, at the age of thirteen, 
and continued a sailor till the year 1839. He does 
not appear to have left the sea from any feelings of 
disappointment, or from anything of disgust at 
what he there witnessed ; on the contrary, the 
energy of his character rendered him peculiarly 
suited for that profession, in which he was consi- 
dered eminently calculated to excel ; and the great 
interest which he felt for all things connected with 
the sea was shown even to the last, in the animation 
which he evinced in meeting with any of his naval 
friends, and conversing on the subject of his early 
profession. But he had felt that something more 
was needed for the aspirations and hopes of a better 
state; and these, which might before have been 
latent in his heart, were called out and strengthened 
by twice being restored almost beyond hope from 
the yellow fever on the coast of Africa. Not that 
his recovery was immediately and at once im- 
pressed with the sense of his deliverance, and the 
determination to devote to the service of G-od a 
life so providentially and so graciously preserved ; 
for this does not appear to be expressed in the 
short extract from his naval journal. Yet we may 
perceive even in that a feeling perhaps more last- 



6 



MEMOIR OF THE 



ing, because more deep, of which the possessor 
himself is hardly conscious, and which a young 
sailor, even in his private journal, would scarce ex- 
press in words. By after fruit it is known. It is 
"a still small voice," scarce audible beneath the 
heart, which says, "I do not feel thankful that I 
am preserved; I ought to do so, and I strive." 
There is often in this something more deep and 
true than in any passionate emotion. Such again 
are the words hi the same account, " There is no 
body to offer a word of encouragement ; all are alike 
indifferent ; the name of our Saviour is never heard 
excepting in blasphemy." This falls in with what 
is said of his being considered remarkably reserved 
among his companions at sea. This reserve he 
always had, excepting on the one subject of religion ; 
the fulness and abundance of the heart with which 
he always delighted to converse, in discourse or 
writing, with those among whom he met with 
sympathy, was the very cause of continual restraint 
and shyness where he met with it not. Perhaps 
that soul-absorbing interest which he felt on this 
topic, together with the constitutional energy of 
his character, broke down those restraints of diffi- 
dence and reserve which otherwise were natural to 
him. It is pleasant to notice even at this time any 
traces of the working of that good Spirit which led 
him step by step to what he afterwards became. 

Extract from private journal, 1837. "We arrived at 
Sierra Leone in the beginning of December. We were 



KEY. E. A. STICKLING. 



7 



boarded by a boat in the entrance of the river, advising 
us not to go in, as the fever was raging, and some of the 
vessels that we must necessarily anchor near, had lost 
crews. We anchored. I never knew what heat was 
before ; it is dreadfully hot. 

"We have been ten days out, and are not 100 miles 
from Sierra Leone. We have five cases of fever, now 
pronounced to be the yellow fever, and very bad ; we en- 
tertained hopes that it was otherwise. It will no doubt 
run through the ship ; so it has hitherto. We have new 
cases every day, and we are preparing now for sickness. 

Poor is dead ; he died raving mad ; we have buried 

him. 

" Jan. 20th, 1838. I have had the fever, and am 
now convalescent. What has not passed in the short 
time elapsed since I was taken ill? I have been at 
death's door, and calmly said to myself, death is approach- 
ing. It had no horrors for me : I felt not that I could 
have no hope. It appears to me a dream ; I cannot ima- 
gine how I could have been so indifferent, so hardened ; 
but I find it is the nature of the disease : all are so. We 
are on our way to the Island of Ascension. The ship is a 
perfect pest-house ; our decks are covered with the sick ; 
we have only five men well. We are becalmed on the 
Line ; it is horrible ; nothing but the groans of the sick 
and the ravings of the dying are to be heard. I have 
been in this state. I do not feel thankful that I am pre- 
served ; I ought to do so, and I strive. There is nobody 
to offer a word of encouragement ; all are alike indifferent. 
The name of our Saviour is never heard excepting in 
blasphemy. I must go back to the time of my being 
taken ill : — it was in the middle watch ; I had relieved the 
second Lieutenant about one. I felt rather cold, and put 
on warmer clothing. I was walking the deck with a light 



8 



MEMOIR OF THE 



heart, for I had no cares. A breeze had just sprung up ; 
we were proceeding to our destination (Dix Cove on the 
Gold Coast) and I was picturing to myself what it was 
like, for all was perfectly new to me. I felt a sudden 
pain shoot down my back, so violent, that I leant against 
the ship's side for support. Upon attempting to rise, I 
found a pain in all my joints. I had the day before seen 
a man at the wheel seized in a similar manner ; I had 
therefore no doubt but that it was the fever, and leaving 

the orders with S , I went down to my hammock, 

asking him to tell M , the assistant-surgeon, when 

he went his rounds, to come and see me : this was about 
two o'clock. What an age it seemed till four, when the 
doctor came ! He came at last ; how glad I was to see 
him ! I gradually grew better. Two men who had left 
the Orestes with me came to see me, and I well recollect 
one of them saying, i He will never see England again 
I thought so too. I remained ill more than a week, and 
was then permitted to get up a short time every day. 
All my inquiries about the sick were evaded. I at last 
found that poor Saunders and twelve men had died, and 
seventy were ill in their hammocks. I came on deck 
every day now ; I was quite accustomed to the groans of 
the sick, and day by day I saw the dead brought up until 
we had numbered eight and twenty." 

On returning from sea in the year 1839, Mr. 
Suckling relinquished the navy, in which he had 
now served for eight years. In the same year, 
soon after coming of age, he submitted to a large 
sacrifice in consenting to cut off the entail of 
the "Woodton property. It does not appear that 
he was much affected or disappointed by so great a 



REV. K. A. SUCKLING. 



9 



change of circumstances ; rather, as far as one can 
trace the history of his mind, he seems, if one may 
say so, to have had the feeling, " But none of these 
things move me, neither count I my life dear unto 
myself, so that I might finish my course with joy." 
" Yea, doubtless, and I count all things but loss for 
the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus 
my Lord." Yet it can hardly be doubted that 
such a reverse at this period of life, and the strong 
attachment which he always felt to the ancient 
family house of "Woodton, must have rendered it 
one of those trials which materially tended to 
strengthen the better life within him ; and was a 
part of the kind dispensations of that Good Shep- 
herd in rescuing His sheep from the thorns of this 
world, that He might carry it .home on His 
shoulders rejoicing. 

On the 22nd of April, in the year 1840, he 
married Anna Maria, the daughter of Dr. Yelloly 
of Cavendish Hall, Suffolk; and in the following 
June entered into residence at Cambridge, as a 
member of Caius College. During his undergra- 
duate career his time and thoughts were much 
taken up with divinity, in which his whole heart 
was, and as its termination approached he thus 
writes to Mrs. Suckling : 

" I so wish the examination was over, it takes up all 
my thoughts ; I have no time for anything such as I would 
wish to pursue. I am ashamed to be obliged to lay aside 
my daily study of the Bible ; and everything I think or 
do must be to other points. I wish this was over, and the 



10 



MEMOIR OF THE 



time come when my whole and undivided attention may 
be given up to the study of God's Word and His Will, 
the knowledge of which is far above earthly value. O, 
how have I looked forward to the time when I may do 
this free from other cares, — and now it is so near !" 

But he had another ordeal to pass beside that of 
the University. Having made himself in some 
degree known for church principles at the Camden 
Architectural Society, he was refused Ordination 
by the then Bishop of Ely, no adequate reason being 
assigned for such rejection. The writer finds 
nothing to his disparagement in this part of his 
history ; and as his object is not to dwell on the 
passions of men, but on the gracious and good 
Providence of God, Who ordereth all things well, 
and maketh aH*events to work together for good to 
them that love Him, we may hasten to the conclu- 
sion of this matter, which was that it afforded 
Archdeacon Thorp the privilege of introducing him 
into the pastoral office, by offering him his own 
curacy of Kemerton as a title. And he was or- 
dained Deacon at Gloucester in September, 1843. 



Kemerton. 1843—1846. 

Theee is something of sameness and uniformity 
in the lives of good men ; habits of prayer, of alms 
and fasting comprise the whole ; what may be said of 
one may be said of all ; and there is so little variety 



EET. E. A. SUCKLITO. 



11 



of incident in the life of a parochial Minister, that 
the things to be mentioned of one may be the case 
with many others. Bnt on the other hand, on any 
degree of acquaintance great diversity of character 
comes ont under such uniformity ; and such as gives 
altogether their own peculiar interest to incidents 
of common occurrence ; and if this could be set 
forth as seen in life, it would render any details well 
worthy of record. One star difFereth from another ; 
every jewel in the foundations of the Heavenly City 
is minutely specified as altogether differing from 
others, in colour, quality, and position. He that 
knoweth His own sheep by name — by the new 
name which He has given them, — knoweth the inner 
man, the diverse self, that which makes each to be 
that self — that peculiar individual self that he is, 
and no other. And if the very gait and movement 
— the very bearing and tone of those we love, is 
endeared to us by the associations of that self with 
which they are identified, this may excuse the men- 
tion of details apparently trivial in the account that 
ensues. 

The two or three years after Ordination usually 
give the whole complexion to a clergyman's after 
life. And Mr. Suckling's being now so much 
thrown on his own resources may have tended in 
some degree to impart that independence of thought 
and action which was so much seen in him after- 
wards. His letters to his chief friend and adviser 
at this time are a proof of the many trials and 
difficulties he found on entering the ministry — 



12 



MEMOIR OF THE 



owing in great measure to tlie want of ecclesiastical 
discipline and episcopal guidance. But the earnest- 
ness of mind which most feels those difficulties will 
leave untried no means of meeting them, will cast 
about its net, and try all waters ; and hence per- 
haps was the more attained that habit of seeking 
strength where alone it can be found ; and which 
tended to give that living power to his personal 
exertions. The danger to which such a disposition 
is liable is that of an unreal spiritualism, but He 
"Whose strength is perfected in weakness so ordered 
external circumstances, and drew out his efforts 
from within, that it became counteracted by self- 
denial, personal energy, and practical duty ; so 
that what otherwise would have been his failure 
became the great charm and life-giving spirit of his 
character, by the simple-minded reality, that won- 
derful and wonder-working affectionate sympathy 
which pervaded it. Archdeacon Thorp mentions 
that his influence was very great in infusing life 
and power into that form of godliness which things 
were then assuming in his parish; 1 and incidents 
mentioned by others residing in the parish were 
great indications of this. 

1 It may be excusable to transcribe from a letter of Mr. 
Suckling's the following proof of the confidence reposed in him 
by his kind and generous Rector. " Since I have been here 
he has given me a very liberal stipend, and begged me to 
spend the income of the Living as if I were Rector, so fre- 
quently so, that I have had no hesitation in laying out money 
in his name, five, ten, and even twenty pounds at a time." 



EET. E. A. SUCKLING. 



13 



One writing from Kemerton, who had been 
asked to give some account of hiin, says : 

" Having made acquaintance with each individual in 
the parish, he arranged his time to give a considerable 
portion of each day to the school, which continued 
during his stay to be his point of dearest interest, though 
his modes of management in some degree changed. He 
opened the school each day, and having reason to fear 
reverence during prayer was not sufficiently observed, he 
afterwards for a year continued to close it also, so that, 
with the daily Service, there were during each day four 
times which required punctual observance. 

" One custom which Mr. Suckling had was to make 
acquaintance with those who had leisure, while walking, 
and in that way he sought it with us. I had been too 
little accustomed to any spiritual interference to under- 
stand his purpose. I remember our agreeing to go, 
together with some friends, when he first asked if I would 
object to a walk. A little advance of intercourse taught 
me that he considered my soul as much a part of his 
charge as that of others. Each opportunity which cir- 
cumstances gave was taken advantage of, to bring for- 
ward more fully and clearly an unseen world, and that 
dread of sin which seems to come with the knowledge, 
and I thankfully own the comfort and aid these conver- 
sations brought to my mind. 

" A sense of responsibility weighed at times most 
heavily on him. 1 Another soul for me to give an ac- 
count of/ was his remark on the passing bell for John 
Baldwin. Something there was independent of either 
public or private teaching which had its effect : a simple- 
minded, untaught, elderly man, who had long attended 
the Meeting House, put down his load one day in this 



14 



MEMOIR OP THE 



winter when I met him, and without much preparation 
said, ' I begin to think it is not such an easy thing to get 
to heaven.' 

" Mr. Suckling's division of his time in this first year 
was, I believe, the early part of the morning, to the 
school, the afternoon to the parish, and the evening to 
study. He had during the winter gained much the con- 
fidence and affection of the parish . He had left everything 
external as he found it, till towards the spring, when he 
propos%d having the remainder of the sittings made open 
and the gallery removed. Lent was now approaching, 
and he gradually opened his strong and almost awful 
view of it. He would have wished, had the Church 
Prayer Book permitted it, additional and peculiar services, 
and considered that though the outward life might appear 
the same, each individual should live as though wrapped 
and divided from the world, by a cloud, as Moses in the 
Mount. He urged the habit of private prayer in 
Churches strongly, and especially at that season ; the 
Church had been first left open for the workmen ; he 
began the custom of leaving it constantly so, and it has 
never since been discontinued, nor have I ever heard of 
any inconvenience arising from it. The bell-ringers now 
passed through the Church, and to awaken in them a 
higher sense of their office was another object of his 
endeavours, and with much success. After a time, they of 
their own accord drew up rules for their conduct, which 
they submitted to his approbation. On the entrance of 
Lent, he had a request from the parish clerk, a mason, to 
remove the evening service to an hour late enough to 
enable him and some others to attend after work." 

In this account of his life at Kemerton, allusion 
is made to his watchfulness of a personal and in- 



RET. R. A. SUCKLING. 



15 



dividual character. This was afterwards noticed at 
Bussage as in some degree peculiar to him, a close 
individualizing concern and sympathy for others, — 
that he did not think it enough to consider a family 
collectively, but that every member of that family 
was the object of his concern and care, what each 
was about and doing, what was his state. It was 
remarkable, says a brother clergyman who had the 
charge of an adjoining district, how he would watch 
and wait whole days and nights on some one of his 
Hock, waiting for an opportunity, if haply he 
might find one, — the "molles aditus et tempora 
fandi," — and never giving it over, with an intense 
interest and burning desire to gain them. And 
when he accompanied the same person in the 
parish of the latter on his parochial visits, he 
entered with the same warmth of interest into every 
case, inquiring about it, and making it his own, 
from the same eager sympathy in their spiritual 
well-being, thinking nothing alien to himself that 
concerned their condition. 

Thus, while appearing to himself to be toiling in 
disappointments, and with the sense of defects from 
within and without, the subject of these memoirs 
was himself, in the eyes of others, becoming not 
unlike one to whom he himself at this time applied 
for counsel and advice, of whom he thus speaks in 
a letter to his friend, Mr. Sc . . . . 

" I was indeed pleased with .... there was 1 holiness 
to the Lord' inscribed on all his actions. I shall never 



1G 



MEMOIR OF THE 



forget my interview with him, it often floats in vision 
before my eyes, and acts as a salutary check upon 
myself." 

To the same correspondent he proceeds to say i — 

" Indeed, I could pour out to you a mournful tale of 
parish difficulties and deficiencies. I wish you were 
near ; for I feel the want of a friend to consult with 
often." 

On other occasions he mentions some of these 
difficulties to the same correspondent, especially on 
the subject of the Holy Communion, of persons 
coming unprepared, of the need and yet danger of 
more frequent communion, and modes of obviating 
the same. 

" I think," he says, " you mention something in your 
book about Spiritual Communion, and I am thereby led 
to tell you an idea I have in my head : you remember 
how Newman points out our unfitness, generally, for 
weekly Communion, in his sermon on * Indulgence in 
Religious Privileges.' This would keep one back ; yet 
there may be some few who are desirous of more frequent 
Communion. I have some who have asked leave to use 
' Spiritual Communion,' as a test of their sincerity, lest 
they be deceiving themselves; I have directed that in 
case they do, it be used at midnight, that they rise to use 
it. I fear this is singular ; but if it were general, might 
we not hope great benefits from it ? 

"And regarding the point of Weekly Communion 
itself, I feel it is imperatively our duty to offer Sacrifice 
every Sunday. Vide Scandret. But something is 
strongly called for, from the fact of our not exercising 



REV. E. A. SUCKLING. 



17 



discipline, whereby our congregations consist of all sorts, 
many, it is to be feared, worse than heathens ; so that we 
cannot address communicants without 4 casting pearls 
before swine,' which Ave are forbidden to do. This, I 
think, might be remedied, by having an early Com* 
munion, — so early, that there would be some self-denial 
in coming ; and at that Communion, a sermon treating 
on high and holy doctrines, heavenly mysteries, or sacra- 
ments. This would be strictly rubrical ; and if necessary 
the Bishop would sanction it, I should think. Intruders 
might be kept away by requiring all to ' signify their 
names,' thus giving an opportunity for Confession if they 
desired. 

" This would in fact be dividing our congregations 
into two, as in the ancient Church, the Fideles and Cate- 
chumens ; — to these latter one might preach, as S. Am- 
brose did, (see Bingham, b. i. ch. iv.,) upon points of 
morality, for though baptized, many of them are living 
heathen lives. A difficulty would here present itself, in 
that some of these would be the usual monthly com- 
municants ; but it is slight, for many, it is to be feared, 
could give no better reason for communicating than that 
others do so, and it is respectable. By making a differ- 
ence in the morning and evening sermons, the higher 
sermon to the smallest congregation, and to the largest 
(when those who come only once are there) on points of 
morality ; for many of these people are living in open 
sin. The shopkeeper keeps his shop open in the morn- 
ing, and comes in the afternoon to Church ; as also those 
that buy. Young men frequent public houses on the 
Sunday evening; others swear, others are living in 
malice, envy, and ' other grievous crimes.' These clearly 
will pay no attention to holy doctrine ; they would loathe 
angels' food ; and you know that these form a large por- 

G 



IS 



MEMOIB OP THE 



tion of our congregations, — at least they do of mine. 
They want to be very plainly spoken to, after the manner 
of S. Chrysostom, in the ' Homilies on the Statues ;' or, 
to be more modern, I should think Jones of Nayland a 
good specimen, — for instance, the sermon of ' the Gada- 
rene delivered.' 

" The need of this distinction is felt by those Clergy 
who divide their discourses into two parts, — one for 
the converted, the other for the unconverted ; but with 
their want of reserve they do this openly, thereby incul- 
cating and fostering many of those sins they preach 
against. 

" The early communicants would understand sermons, 
others would not ; thus have I known a holy child fully 
enter into one of Dr. Pusey's beautiful sermons, while to 
an ordinary person it was unintelligible." 

The passage on Spiritual Communion is quoted 
partly in proof of what was said, of the sense he had 
of self-denial, he speaks of rising early and at mid- 
night as the means of counteracting any thing un- 
real and falsely spiritual. Such was in himself the 
corrective, and practical energy the fruit. A person 
writing from Kemerton says incidentally of him, 

" It was, I have understood, his constant practice to 
rise in the night, and at dawn of day, to pray." 

So natural to an earnest and devout mind are 
the ancient JSfocturns, and the Psalmist's words, " at 
midnight I will rise." Xor is it without interest 
to consider it in connection with the former life of 
a sailor, keeping watch by night on the hidden 



BEY. K, A. SUCKLIKa. 



19 



dangers of his course, through the perilous sea and 
dark night of the world. 

The following letter contains the mention of that 
practice alluded to by Mr. Suckling, together with 
other points of advice, which may serve to show the 
state of the writer's mind at this time. 

" Kemerton. Feb. 12, 1846. 

" My dear , 

" I have just returned home, and received your 
letter. It is a great gift of God's to he enabled to be 
calm and peaceful amid much distraction ; yet it can be 
attained by prayer, and seeking to live, as it were, in your 
own heart. Let your thoughts constantly recur inwards, 
and endeavour that passing events occupy your mind no 
more than the vapour, which, passing away, fitly repre- 
sents them. If our eyes and ears are open to this world, 
and whatever is of it, they will abstract us, and make re- 
ligion a weariness ; therefore, you must strive that they 
do not pass beyond into the heart. 

" ' Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speak- 
eth ;' therefore, religious conversation should be encou- 
raged rather than checked. It should be checked only 
when it is for ostentation and pride of heart; but en- 
couraged where we find a genial spirit : and a word, a 
look, or action, will reveal this to us. It is related of 
Blanco White, — rather, he says it of himself, — that after 
he had become an Infidel, (though ministering as a 
Priest,) he endeavoured to keep the dreadful secret 
within his own bosom, but that sympathy revealed it to 
others in spite of himself, and he soon found kindred 
spirits. And inasmuch as God is greater than Satan, 
so will our hearts point us out those with whom we may 
c 2 



20 



MEMOIR OF THE 



take ' sweet counsel, and walk in the house of God as 
friends.' 

" If you use Spiritual Communion, I would advise it 
be at midnight ; that you rise to do so ; that in the 
stillness and dead of night you may calm your mind, and 
dedicate it afresh to God. 

" It is generally supposed that Nicodemus came to our 
Lord by night, for fear of being seen ; and this is im- 
plied by S. John, I think, chapter xix. 39, — who relates 
that at first he came by night, i.e. not openly. 

" With regard to the question you put; — it is of God's 
mercy that He reveals to us the past ; it is a sign which 
we may thankfully receive, that we are growing in Grace, 
and we may hope that from time to time He will reveal 
to us more of ourselves 

"I earnestly hope that you will write again, if you 
think I can be of any further service. May God bless 
you, and comfort you, and hold you up in His paths, is 
the prayer of 

" Your affectionate Pastor, 

« It. A. Suckling." 

Another difficulty, which Mr. Suckling now 
speaks of, was that of confession, of which he felt 
strongly the importance. And writing to the friend 
before mentioned, Mr. Sc . ., and detailing his at- 
tempts in this direction, he adds : — 

" I say this in hopes you will make any suggestion 
that occurs to you, for I feel that I am working in the 
dark, alone, without advice, and none around me to look 
up to for instruction." 

Nor, indeed, is there any subject which requires 



KEY. Pt. A. SUCKLING. 



21 



more delicate handling, and his own subsequent 
experience in the treatment of his parish convinced 
him of this. Of the importance of that unburthen- 
ing the heavy-laden conscience which is accom- 
panied with humiliation and shame, he had always 
the strongest sense ; but what is called a system of 
"Direction," or regular formal Confession, he was 
afterwards led to consider of questionable benefit. 
Such was his own feeling from experience, as he 
mentioned to the writer. 

In the meanwhile these very difficulties and per- 
plexing trials of which he complains in his letters 
to an intimate friend, were in the eyes of those 
around him affording a transforming power on his 
exertions with others ; with whom his efficiency 
was very great. 

" The disappointments he experienced in his flock," 
says one who was his parishioner, " he felt very deeply. 
I believe he thought every one's faults were caused by 
his short-comings. At length the Services which he 
carried on in the parish, together w T ith mental anxiety, 
and, perhaps, a stricter life than his frame was equal to, 
became too much for his health ; and in the spring of 
1846 he became quite unable to continue his labours, 
and it was thought necessary that he should go away for 
two months." 

And it is here interesting to observe for the first 
time, in illness and absence, that watchful eye of 
care and tenderness for the objects of his charge, 
which afterwards so much characterized his letters. 



22 



MEMOIR OP THE 



To the same parishioner to whom was addressed 
the former letter, he says : 

"Mudiford. May 30, 1846. 

" 1 have been unable to answer your letter before, 
not being very well ; but I am now, I am thankful to 
say, much better. 

" Your letter is plain enough this time. You should 
strive to become independent of outward circumstances, 
as far, that is, as they affect your spiritual state ; and the 
little sympathy you meet with, and complain of, may, by 
God's grace, be a powerful means towards your attaining 
it. This being so, turn your thoughts more inward, and 
converse with God ; strive to get a calm mind : watch 
what takes away that calmness or evenness, and avoid it. 

" This, I think, is what you particularly want ; and 
other means of attaining to it are, — to accustom yourself 
to regularity in all your actions. Do nothing hastily, and 
beg God's blessing on all you do. If you are tempted 
to desire anything immoderately, suspect yourself, and 
deny your will. Following others in what you conceive 
to be wrong may arise from this, that you accustom 
yourself to act too much upon impulse, or fear their ridi- 
cule, &c. If you are tempted to think too much of your- 
self, call to mind your imperfections ; but check the 
thoughts as they arise ; banish them from your mind, or 
turn to something else. 

" Pride we shall find closer to us than our garments ; 
it haunts us, and pervades all our thoughts, unless we are 
watchful in all we do. Suspect yourself in everything, 
and mortify it in act. Too often, when we find people's 
minds not congenial, or that they do not notice us, our 
pride is hurt, and we are led by it to put ourselves for- 
ward, or to follow them. 



EEY. E. A. SUCKLING. 



23 



" The remorse of past sin will not pass away while it 
has any hold over us. Are you ruled by any passions, or 
do you indulge in any thoughts or feelings which you 
should not ? Because, as long as this is so, there can be 
no sense of sin pardoned, or indeed feeling of remorse. 

" Feelings of remorse can only arise when sin is 
hateful. 

" There is nothing wrong in your feeling how imper- 
fectly you perform all your religious duties ; cherish the 
feeling ; keep it free from any feverish excitement, and it 
will produce humility ; for the thought itself is humi- 
liating. 

" Regarding your will ; I think the ' Spiritual Combat' 
will furnish you with advice. But labour, above all 
things, to get a knowledge of yourself, and that can only 
be done by retiring within yourself, and cherishing 
solitude. 

" Then you will find out occasions of temptation which 
now exist, or are yielded to, unobserved, because our 
minds are called away by every trifling thing around us. 
I hope you can read this, as it is written leaning back. 
Mrs. Suckling desires her love; she is not very well just 
now. Believe me, 

" Your affectionate Pastor, 

" R. A. Suckling." 

And now this temporary retirement from the 
scene of his labours led to a permanent change, of 
which the best account may be furnished by the 
following letter to a lady residing in the parish. 

« Mudiford. July 19, 1846. 

" My dear Miss H , 

" I cannot write you a long letter now, for I do 
not feel equal to it ; but I thought perhaps you might 



24 MEMOIR OF TILE 

expect to hear from me, as I had promised to write to 
you. Nor can I bid you farewell in form ; that you 
must excuse me. It were useless to repeat the history 
of our leaving, as you have heard it from Mrs. Suckling ; 
still, though after receiving the Archdeacon's letter, our 
hopes were raised that there might be a possibility of our 

return to Kemerton, because seemed to think some 

means of residence might be found, though Ave could see 
none ; yet those hopes were, however, destroyed by your 
and 's notes, which did not see any. Our duty, there- 
fore, is plain, though painful. Yet I ought not to say 
painful, for God's will should not be so to us ; yet such 
is our weak nature. And God's trials are just those we 
seemed most to dread, and least able to bear ; but His 
strength will be made perfect in our weakness. What 
He ordains must be best for us, and that must be our 
comfort ; it is a comfort to feel that He is ordering events 
for us, and when we know His will, it is our duty cheer- 
fully to surrender ourselves to it, — glad that He requires 
a sacrifice of us. 

" I have asked my sister to bid the people good-bye 
for me. I would spare you that unpleasant task. I try 
to banish Kemerton from my mind, but alas ! the re- 
membrance of it lies on my heart like lead ; I fear it may 
check the progress I have made towards health. It was 
no light tie that bound me to the parish, and it cannot be 
lightly broken. I try to steel myself now, that I may 
write calmly to you about it. 

" Our movements are very uncertain, as yet ; Bussage 
remains in an uncertain state. At times I almost hope I 
may not have it, to free me from duty for the winter ; 
indeed, I have written to that effect, on account of a 
doubt about it. We shall hope to hear of you sometimes. 
I need not say that my services, in whatever way they 
might be useful, will always be at your service. 



RET. R. A. SUCKLING. 



25 



" Short as this note is, I must close it, not that I could 
not write much more, but that it were selfish to trouble 
you with my troubles, — selfish to fear, yea, wrong to fear 
about those whom I have so much loved there ; for they 
are in God's Hands, and He will hold them up ; and if 
He has promised to be our strength, who may despond ? 
Farewell, then, and may God bless you all ! If I have 
taught you any high truth which you knew not before, 
remember me by that ; and if my example has not always 
(as, alas ! it has not) borne out my teaching, then pray 
for me, for I much need your prayers. I have still, and 
hope to have, in my prayers, those whom, if I would, I 
could not forget. Farewell. 

" Ever yours faithfully in Christ Jesus, 
" R. A. Suckling." 

Soon after, he writes to an elderly lady of the 
same family to a similar effect, and concludes his 
letter with these words so full of beautiful and 
divine affection, filial and at the same time pas- 
toral. 

»AaBj J0i3&£9l-C[ftU J&uJ UO'£ 9Uit[<J Dlf/O ff 1 ..Jill TO! 

"Bisley. August 28, 1846. 
* Thank you very much for your message by Mrs. 
Suckling; it is a great comfort to me to think that I 
have the prayers of you and your family, and many more 
at Kemerton. Mine shall be for you and yours, as ever. 
Prayer is the only bond we have now ; I ought not to 
say only, for it is the greatest. When we are separated, 
it will still last, — still last in that unknown world, where, 
if we meet no more here, we shall more truly meet than 
ever. To that world, dear lady, in the common course 
of events, you are very near ; a few short years, and all 
of us, — but a still fewer, and you will be summoned 



26 



MEMOIR OF THE 



there. And then wtH life only truly begin, for good or 
bad, as we have lived here. For that state I know you 
are preparing, and it gives me comfort ; yet as your 
Pastor, though not so now, let me, remembering how we 
must stand together before the Judgment seat, as a part- 
ing word, say, we can never prepare too much, never too 
much think of that day and hour, and measure all our 
thoughts, words, and actions, by how they will then 
appear. Not only as a Pastor have I written thus, but 
out of the abundance of my heart. I thankfully acknow- 
ledge God's mercies to me, in placing me near you all, — 
near those whom I can so love and admire. And you, 
Madam, permit me to say, whom I shall always look up 
to with the affectionate love of a son, and as such would 
always wish to render you my poor services. 

" Ever yours with sincere affection and respect, 
" R. A. Suckling." 

And about the same time to Mrs. Suckling, 
expressing the same tender attachment to the flock 
he was leaving, — the " one longing, lingering look 
cast behind," while turning "to fresh woods and 
pastures new " which were soon to rivet no less his 
affectionate syanpathies. 



" Your letter has given me much pleasure and much 
pain, yet I cannot distinguish between them; sorrow and 
joy are so much alike. I have cried like a child. I went 
to Bussage yesterday ; all looks very dismal. I cannot, 
though it is very wrong, bring myself to look kindly 
upon the place, beautiful as it is. My eye wandered, as I 
returned from Cheltenham, to the beautiful valley below, 
and then to one spot which I fancied I could see, and 



EET. E. A. SUCKLING. 



27 



where all my affections were centred, as if there were 
none else like it." 

It has not been thought allowable to make use 
of Mr. Suckling's private prayers and journal which 
were never intended to see the light, but one ex- 
tract has been furnished in this place as illustrative 
of this change in the scene of his life. 

" By the blessing of God, my health being much re- 
stored, left Mudiford for Bisley, July 29th, 1846. 

" Cannot return to the Rectory at Kemerton, so ac- 
cepted the new Church building at Bussage in Bisley, by 
unknown hands. 

" My God, Thou knowest what is best for Thy sinful 
creatures. Have mercy upon the parish I now leave ; 
pour Thy blessing upon all in it. Mercifully forgive my 
many failings there. What of evil I have done there 
blot out of their minds who knew it ; what of good, graft 
in it. Pardon me, O my God, those sins for which Thou 
didst afflict me, and grant that I fall not into them again ; 
accept my imperfect repentance. O, would that it were 
deeper and fuller I Watch over those souls there who 
are dear to me ; pardon me that I love some more than 
others, seeing all are my sheep. 

" Preserve those dear children I have daily taught, 
watched over, and counselled ; preserve them, my God, 
from all sin and wickedness j preserve them in the purity 
and holiness of their minds. What of evil I have taught 
them, blot it out ; what of good, graft it in, that it may 
bear abundant fruit. 

" Into Thy hands I commend all sick and afflicted, 
bedridden and wearied with old age, rich and poor, 



2S 



MEMOIR OP THE 



masters and servants, and little children. Into Thy 
Hands, O my God, I commend them. Forgive, I beseech 
Thee, O forgive my many sins against them, — my neg- 
lecting to warn, to beseech, to rebuke, to exhort, — the ill 
example I have set them : forgive me all my sins against 
them, and grant that, in the Day in which I must stand 
before Thy judgment-seat, to give account of those souls 
committed to my charge, I may be forgiven ; and my 
many sins against Thee and against them be blotted out 
of Thy book, for the merits of the chief Shepherd of souls, 
Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 

" Lord, I beseech Thee, make me remember how 
much more than other men I have need to call upon 
Thee. My charge is great and my strength little ; give 
me grace to come often before Thee, and to ask that help 
which Thou art readier to give than I to ask, through 
Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 



Bussage. 1846, 

It will be necessary to give some short account 
of the place to which Mr. Suckling was now called. 
Bussage is a small hamlet in the poor parish of 
Bisley, beautifully situated on the side of sloping 
wooded hills, converging below into a narrow valley 
or ravine, A family at that time resident in the 
parish of Bisley had united to build a church there ; 
a circumstance which became known to a party of 
young men at Oxford, who had before that time 



KEV. E. A. SUCKLING. 



29 



raised the sum of £2,000 by an agreement among 
themselves in order to build a church in some 
place where an endowment could be procured, and 
the Church system carried out; on hearing of 
Bussage, they suggested that they should build 
their church in this hamlet, the sum previously 
contemplated for that purpose being settled upon 
it as a small endowment. The beautiful little 
church thus built was worthy of the spot, and of 
the good purpose of the unknown founders ; and 
being now completed, it was offered to Mr. Suck- 
ling, who was then leaving Kemerton. After the 
Consecration, he entered into residence on the 
parsonage and glebe which had been purchased and 
appropriated to the church. The following letter 
will give some account of the nature of this paro- 
chial charge as it appeared to him on first entering 
upon it. 

"Bussage. Nov. 17, 1846. 

" My dear Miss H , 

" I feel very grateful for your letter ; it took me 
for the time back to Kemerton. Did I allow myself, I 
should grieve very much over A. B. ; but as her mother 
has objected (as I supposed she would), I must believe it 

would not be good for her to come to us. C is a 

widow's child, as you say, and there would be more cha- 
rity in taking her, though she seemed to me more fitted 
to cope with difficulties and troubles than Anna. She 
seems too tender for this world — its coldness would soon 
break her heart ; but God's strength is made perfect in 
our weakness, and His grace will be sufficient for her 



30 



MEMOIR OF THE 



Remember me to her ; tell her she, with many others, 
have a place in my prayers, that if Ave meet no more here, 
we may in heaven. How would she do to train as a 
schoolmistress ? Pray C. to go to R. L., that she may 
not think the place all happiness. I am glad to hear 

about M. T . Poor C. G. has much trouble with his 

family; may the loss of an eye prove a blessing to D . 

Anything that connects us more with another world 
must be a gain, and cannot be attained to without a 
trial. It is a sure sign God's grace is working in you, 
when you can thus give up your will to His. For myself 
the deed will soon be done, which will, I trust, unite me 
for ever to this parish. My lot is fixed here ; here I must 
run the days of my pilgrimage ; and I cannot but be thank- 
ful that I am placed where there are no good things of 
the world to tempt or to ensnare me, and where, by God's 
grace, the suffering and hard bondage that is around me 
must keep me from living a life of self-indulgence and 
ease. My poor parishioners mostly work at the mills ; 
and your heart would bleed were you to see the children, 
from eleven upwards, many of them of weak and delicate 
frames, who have to toil to enrich others. These poor 
things have to leave here at half-past five in the morning 
in all weathers, and do not return till seven at night ; 
there must be fifty or sixty of them here. The only time 
I can see them is Saturday afternoon, when they leave 
work at four, or the Sunday; and then it cheers my 
heart to see their cheerful faces : they seem to enjoy this 
day of rest. I must ask your forbearance thus far with 
me. Mrs. Suckling is quite well at Cavendish. I will 
send some books to Shipton's, for you to fill up the names 
of children. I fear all might not care to have it ; and 
then again they might feel hurt if they were excluded. 
I will therefore send some, if you will kindly give them, 



EEV. B. A. SUCKLING. 



31 



and say how many more are wanting. My kind love to 

Mrs. ; I trust we may have a mild winter, that she 

may go to Church. 

" Believe me ever 

" Yours faithfully, 
"R. A. Suckling." 

It was at this period that the writer had the 
privilege of Mr. Suckling's acquaintance, which 
indeed consisted of nothing more than short occa- 
sional visits when situated in that neighbourhood, 
but with the fullest intention on both sides, in 
quitting it, that such should have been renewed. 
There was something in his natural character that 
would have reminded a stranger of his great rela- 
tive ; it was peculiar to him to dare and venture 
and to succeed, because his heart was in his work. 
But if such was constitutional, it became raised in 
him and sanctified, when the love of God and of 
those for whom Christ died, was the burning mo- 
tive, and faith in His goodness the sustaining 
power ; yet this continued to mark his character. 
It was for this reason that one felt interested in 
him and all his undertakings, even such as in others 
might have appeared somewhat hazardous and ex- 
perimental, for one could not but be assured that 
good would result where the heart was so engaged 
and the object so high. But what most strongly 
characterized him, if we might venture to use words 
too commonly misapplied, was a holy unction in all 
his ways, a constant pervading heavenly-mindedness 



32 



: r E^rom OF THE 



or spiritual sense of the Unseen, showing itself con- 
tinually in little incidents that could scarcely be 
forgotten, and became associated with the remem- 
brances of him. 

It may be the case that such a character is not to 
be held out for universal admiration, as one for all 
to follow throughout in every point ; but there is 
in it something which is of all things the most pre- 
cious, and that which we all most need. Such a 
disposition lies perhaps near some great dangers ; 
yet it is believed that in this case they were 
balanced and counteracted by other qualities ; so 
much love with something that might be called 
religious sentiment is often combined with an 
absence of strength and consistency ; but in him, 
such spiritual affection and the expression of it, 
was the mere exuberance of real life ; the very 
bloom on the flower, the freshness and evidence of 
vitality. Thus it might have been thought that 
his seeking such scenes as the Dispensary, the 
Workhouse, and afterwards the Penitentiary, intro- 
duced him to, might have arisen from the craving 
of unquiet love of excited feeling ; but in him it 
went together with real work and with unceasing 
prayer, as was known to those best conversant with 
his inner life. It is remarkable that the word 
which all naturally apply to him is "reality the 
writer has heard from more than one, indeed from 
several of the friends who best knew him, calling 
attention to this as the distinguishing point of 
his life and character, viz., its singular "reality" 



RET. E. A. SUCKLIXa. 



This is remarkable, because, as before noticed the 
natural danger to which such a temperament would 
have been liable is that of unreality, of enthusiastic 
feelings not being substantiated by the daily and 
habitual temper of life ; but the very opposite was 
the case with him. So that they who would ex- 
press his character by the term "reality ' ' alone, 
fall short of it ; it was that which is above nature, 
the supernatural and spiritual becoming his nature 
and part of himself. What is meant in speaking 
of the reality of his character, is that he realized 
in life the unseen to a remarkable degree ; that 
sincerity and genuineness marked his character 
even more than its spirituality. That his love was 
transparent and without guile. Even, if one might 
venture to apply the allusion, as "the street " of 
the Heavenly city is not only " of pure gold," but 
also " as it were transparent glass." 

He was not aware for a long time of the extra- 
ordinary influence and power he had over the minds 
of others ; and when some faint knowledge of it 
first broke in upon his mind, it came with consider- 
able alarm and apprehension, from a sense of 
responsibility which it implied. It was indeed 
very great — not only on the less educated portion 
of his parishioners, but also on the clergy and 
others who came to know him, and even where in 
intellectual powers or early education their minds 
might have been supposed superior to his own. 
JSTor indeed did they themselves seem altogether 
aware of the extent of this his influence upon them, 

D 



34 



ME^IOIE OF THE 



till he was suddenly removed from sight, when on 
asking themselves what fragments they had to 
gather — what remains they had of him, they found 
that they had burnt his letters, and had nothing 
but the memory of him remaining ; so evanescent 
in their own nature appeared those expressions of 
heavenly-mindedness and divine sympathy, like 
summer lightning opening distant and clear scenes 
only to close the same ; or like lights from heaven 
on the clouds, bathing them but for a moment in 
their transient glow, and then lost to sight ; but 
yet they were expressions of that Divine working 
within him, which is of all things in itself the m 
imperishable. In like manner it was his custom to 
burn his own sermons. Thus was his course so 
short, so powerful for good ; and was rather as 
something already gone and departed, than con- 
templated while yet in being by those who for a 
moment were enlightened, warmed, and cheered by 
it ; new feelings, new responsibilities awakened, and 
he who as a divine-sent messenger had kindled 
them was gone. In some sense it was as the poet 
says of Nelson, 

" To him, e'en like the burning levin, 
Short, bright, resistless course was given." 

Perhaps it may be in the ways of Providence that 
the career of such spirits should be short — not 
tried beyond their strength, but " in a short time 
fulfilling a long time," from their rapid expansive 



BEY. H. A. SUCKLINO. 



35 



nature, like electric movements which have done 
their work and are no more. 

One sermon only the writer remembers to have 
heard him preach, which was on the raising of the 
widow's son at Nain, of which he can recall nothing 
more than the impressive manner in which he men- 
tioned a traditionary account of Lazarus, the brother 
of Martha and Mary, — that when he had been re- 
called to life from the grave by our Loud, he was 
never afterwards known to smile, as having become 
so keenly alive to the joys and the importance of the 
unseen world. The tradition, from whatever source 
he may have derived it, will be new to most persons. 
In reading the Fathers and other like books he was 
always observing and remembering matters that 
appeared to have a practical bearing on the one 
great object he had at heart, — not great principles, 
or dogmatic theology, or theories of morals, but 
every thing of interest that would serve to kindle 
the thoughts on that on which his soul was set, the 
devotion of himself and others to the one thing 
needful, the immediate service of the One Great 
and only Master. 

In like manner of reminiscence, would things in 
his conversation cleave to one. Thus, incidentally, 
he happened to mention an old custom in some 
place of ringing the church bells on the occasion of 
a funeral, which he spoke of as a beautiful idea that 
pleased him, as the ringing home of the departed 
spirit, and expressive of welcome. His observation 
was long remembered by more than one of those 
d 2 



36 



MEMOIR OF THE 



that heard it, as indicating the same cast of mind. 
From a similar kind of feeling he expressed to the 
writer and others the greatest interest in " the 
Pilgrim at the Cross," a picture with the lines 
describing it in the book for children entitled 
" Sacred Verses with Pictures." It seems to de- 
rive a fresh significance from this association with 
him as expressing a state of mind which thus 
entered into and made it peculiarly its own. The 
whole of that description may serve to illustrate 
what we wish to point out in him. 

Not to dwell on the effects which such a mind 
must have had whose thoughts were ever thus 
overflowing with what one must call divine affec- 
tions, the w r riter may state his own individual 
impressions from two slight circumstances as evi- 
dences of what we are describing. I remember his 
mentioning two men in his parish, in a humble class 
of life, who were Swedenborgians and preachers ; 
we were surprised to find how skilfully they were 
versed in doctrines grievously unsound and here- 
tical on the subject of the Trinity ; maintaining, as 
their received opinions, points and principles which 
S. Augustin and others had refuted of old: but 
what impressed me was the open-hearted and strong 
interest which he seemed to have awakened in them, 
and their earnest desire to see him, one of them 
being at the time very ill ; I could not but reflect 
that most of us would have passed by such heretical 
teachers, and condemned them, perhaps, by the re- 
serve of silence ; but it was not his method, and 



EET. E. A. SUCKLING. 



37 



I doubt not, but that in his own way, by the living 
and loving earnestness which he evinced, he was 
likely to win the hearts of such, and when the heart 
is won, the head of presumptuous teachers is often 
won also. 

Another circumstance may be mentioned of 
a different character. I remember an old lunatic 
woman who used to sit basking in the sun, and 
noticed those who passed with vacant stare and half- 
incoherent murmurings ; most persons would have 
had no other feeling than that of indifference to- 
wards such an object ; but he once mentioned her 
to me and dwelt on some striking and impressive 
saying she had made use of to him on the impor- 
tance of eternity. His own feeling passed to one's 
mind. I never looked on that woman again as I 
had done before. Thus would he draw out from 
each, however humble, what they had within of 
heaven, and on that he fastened, from that began, 
and on that worked, kindling them with his own 
ardent sympathies. And here it may be observed 
that the detail of his life and actions as an earnest 
labourer in a country parish, may be no more than 
that which one may hope is the case with some 
others ; but the little that the writer has seen in 
him, and heard of him, derived its peculiar power 
from his own mind. 

These details intimate, like his letters, a charac- 
ter that seemed to bear about it, without and on 
the surface, its religious affections, as the very 
atmosphere in which it lived and moved, a halo 



38 



MEMOIR OF THE 



that surrounded it with strong colours of its own, 
investing all things with its own living hues from 
within; yet the depth and genuineness of which 
had in itself the same reality of character which 
might be marked by something quite different in 
the external bearing of another ; it was from the 
greatness, not from the want of intensity it arose, 
and had in itself a power of impressing itself most 
strongly on others. A mutual friend observed to 
the writer, " It was more easy to be religious in 
one's conversation and actions in his house than in 
any other." Another clergyman writes, " Well do 
I remember on my first coming into his house as 
Curate a little before twelve o'clock, how when the 
clock struck, he gently asked me if I would join 
him in his usual prayer for that hour ; it was from 
Bishop Cosin's Devotions." 

One may love and appreciate persons of a very 
opposite character to what is here disclosed, full of 
cautious walking, and marked throughout by a cer- 
tain reserve of wisdom, such indeed to whom this 
temper would be little congenial or in harmony. 
Perhaps, both may have constitutional tendencies 
to their own temptations, and may be intended as 
correctives of each other, — for whatever is of nature 
needs correction. However this may be, it must 
be allowable to love and value what is holy and 
good in both, to admire that inscrutable Wisdom 
which by the means of either brings about its own 
great and good ends, and works by different and 
opposite means for the salvation of souls. If they 



EEY. E. A. SUCKLING. 



39 



be compared and contrasted, let it not be to de- 
tract, but to admire in both that manifold wisdom 
of GrOD which in the kingdom of grace, as in that 
of nature, makes the genial and warm expanding 
sun, as well as the contracting and seasoning frost, 
to work for the bringing on of His great harvest. 
The one would make all ventures for Christ's 
sake ; the other is ever fearful of casting pearls 
abroad. Yet, even in the former case, the Grood 
Spirit Himself ever acts as a constraining power ; 
and by self-contracting or expanding sympathies, 
withholds its hand, or scatters abroad ; and such 
was peculiarly the case with the subject of these 
remarks. The very strength of his sympathies 
made him naturally to seek for meet recipients. 
One feels that it was so in these letters ; they were 
not written at random, their very life was owing to 
this confidence in a congenial soil. That which 
often renders sermons dead and unimpressive, is a 
feeling of this need, the distrust of a reciprocal 
mind ; and the opposite renders these letters more 
full of living interest than any sermon can be. 

And here, one word with regard to the publica- 
tion of the letters ; it may be observed that they are 
not of that character which one would naturally 
feel any scruple at making this use of — they may 
be called for the most part Pastoral Letters. In- 
deed, his letters, notwithstanding their peculiar 
sweetness and individual character, are like ser- 
mons, and his sermons like private letters. The 
Editor, moreover, is fully satisfied that the use of 



40 



MEMOIR OF THE 



such materials is such as the author of them would 
not, were he upon earth, object to, nor, he trusts, 
now that he is with God ; while this very circum- 
stance of their private nature greatly assists the 
cause which he has in view, in setting forth the 
reality of his character. Had he been in any way 
so eminent that such publication of them might 
have been looked for as not improbable, all this 
charm would have been lost ; it adds a peculiar 
value to his sermons that they were written to do 
good to the illiterate poor, or strengthen the peni- 
tent, and nothing more. It is this very uncon- 
sciousness which renders them true to their object ; 
with no bye ends to serve, and calculated to set 
forth one so pre-eminently sincere and guileless. 
It is not the Pastor urging others with any mention 
of his own labours, but the account of one who 
never anticipated public notice, or anything beyond 
the fulfilment of his own heart-felt duties. It 
seems indeed remarkable that friends most sensible 
of his influence, and most highly appreciating his 
character, have not preserved his correspondence : 
the few letters that are found are of a late date, 
and addressed for the most part to such parish- 
ioners as would have felt it a duty to preserve them 
as memorials of his pastoral advice, rather than as 
aware of what appears to the Editor their singular 
value and beauty. 

But to return from this digression to the narra- 
tive of his life : his whole pastoral career was marked 
by failure of physical strength under much mental 



EEV. R. A. SUCKLING. 



41 



energy ; and in the following spring, after settling 
at Bussage, lie went on a voyage to Madeira with 
Archdeacon Thorp. He returned with some inter- 
esting details after his manner, of the impression 
which the English Church was there making in 
winning the respect of foreign Roman Catholics ; 
but these accounts have not been preserved. The 
following extracts from letters to Mrs. Suckling 
are not given as characteristic, or bearing on his 
pastoral life, but may not be without interest. 

" Madeira. March 10th, 1847. 
" There is great distress in the Island, in fact & famine. 
There is no corn in the Island, and they are anxiously 
looking out every day for ships to bring some. The 
streets are crowded with people begging. There is a 
service twice a day at the English chapel, and the con- 
gregations are very large indeed ; but there are most 
unhappy divisions among the English people, stirred up 
and fermented by people seeking health here. I cannot 
find the shadow of a charge against Mr. L., the chaplain, 
who has been here eighteen years." 

" March 12th. 
" But the worst of all is the famine — really and truly a 
famine — no bread to be had in the Island for money. It 
is useless as far as that is concerned ; people in the streets 
do not care to receive it, because no food can be bought. 
They are daily expecting food which has been sent for ; 
but till that comes, the state of the poor is, and must be 
dreadful. The merchants have their own corn, and so 
we have bread. I have to-day been in a house where 



42 



MEMOIR OF THE 



two hundred and fifty houseless persons are collected 
from the streets, and furnished with straw and one meal 
a day, by order of the Governor. But it is at the worst, 
we hope ; for money has been sent for the corn, so it 
must arrive. One reason of the great distress just now 
is the following : — when the scarcity began, it was said 
that many people were hoarding corn to get a large price 
by and by, and the people threatened a disturbance, upon 
which the Governor declared, that if people did not sell 
their corn at cost price, and riots were in consequence, 
he would not call out the soldiers to put them down. 
And this, though done with the best intention, is the real 
cause of this great distress ; for the people, having to sell 
their corn at cost price, would not — indeed, could not — 
import more to sell in the same way; so that, though 
there was plenty for a little time, yet that soon passed, 
and now there is none, no food to be bought for money. 
The blight has spread here ; the potatoe disease is as 
elsewhere ; so that almost the whole Island is depending 
upon any fish that may be caught. The inhabitants have 
subscribed £5,000, i.e. 30,000 dollars, and sent to Eng- 
land, America, and Lisbon for corn, and a vessel from 
Lisbon is hourly expected which is to bring a week's 
corn for the Island ; and when that is out, others, it is 
hoped, will have arrived ; so that, thank God, we have a 
reasonable hope of relief, and we have received intelli- 
gence of the vessels having left Lisbon. I have seen the 
two hundred and fifty people to-day, I mentioned, having 
one meal a day ; we have just been to give them snuff, 
which they are very fond of, everything else failing. Mr. 
P. tells me a Portuguese physician begged of him yester- 
day, having no food. I much trust there is every hope a 
day or two will see a change. The wretched state of the 
government prevents any organized system of relief. 



BEY. It. A. SUCKLING. 



43 



This place, unlike our Colonies, supports the mother 
country. They send money yearly to Lisbon ; and yes- 
terday an order arrived from thence for all the money in 
the treasury, viz. 39,000 dollars, (I suppose to pay the 
troops :) it is dreadful to take the money from a starving 
people, but it must be sent, I so wish you could see the 
geranium hedges, and sweet flowers that are round the 
English chapel." 

" Madeira, April 8th. 
" I certainly am much stronger, and walk about and 
laugh at such hills as the little hills at Bussage, but the 
great distress that has prevailed here has been enough to 
prevent one's getting better ; some people have died, but 
thank God, it is over now to a great extent,— i. e., pro- 
visions are cheaper. Since I last wrote, we have been 
worse than before ; the provisions I mentioned were 
consumed, and starvation appeared again : you could not 
walk anywhere without being met by starving people, 
begging in the most piteous manner ; mothers, with 
children like death, pointing to their breasts, to show 
they had no milk ; five hundred beggars were gathered 
into a confiscated convent, and there fed upon vegetable 
broth, once a day, which it is considered is all that one 
third of the whole population have. In the middle of 
this great distress, a vessel from America came in unex- 
pectedly, with two hundred tons of flour as a speculation, 
and most Providential it was. We were at a great crisis ; 
a few days must have seen the death of hundreds, perhaps, 
but this vessel revived all hopes. A Dutch man-of-war 
steamer, lying in the roads, went out to bring her in when 
she came in sight, and a thousand poor people were on 
the beach to look at her coming in ; there was universal 
joy throughout the town. In the country, an English 



44 



MEMOIU OF THE 



gentleman told me, the poor he met and told of it imme- 
diately went down on their knees, to return thanks to 
God. I was walking with one of the Miss P's, on a 
height above the town, when she came in, and shall 
never forget the pleased faces of the people looking at 
us, especially of one fine-looking man, with an emaciated 
child in his arms. Hope revived in every breast, though 
the vessel's cargo could not have supplied the town a 
week alone ; but no one seemed to think of that — it was 
food, and they hardly seemed to speculate whether it 
might reach them or not : her arrival was soon followed, 
in a clay or two, by other vessels. So Providential was 
her arrival, that we returned thanks in church the same 
afternoon. The owners of the American vessel have, by 
this one trip here, more than paid for her prime cost. 
Since then many vessels have come in." 



We have but slender accounts of the care of his 
parish at Keinerton, jet these are beautifully sup- 
plied in the manner which is most of all to our 
purpose, in some letters to the parishioners, which 
Mr. Suckling now had left, both in the upper 
classes of life, and also to those school children 
over whom he tenderly watched. Some of the 
following letters are to ladies residing in that 
parish. Thus our account of Bussage commences 
with retrospective glances to his former ministry, 
And so may it be that from new scenes which have 
now opened upon him, he may look back also to 
the spot of his last earthly sojourn on the objects 
of his attachment which he there has left, " being 



BEY. It. A. SUCKLING. 



45 



taken' ' from them also " for a short time in pre- 
sence, not in heart." 

The two first are like a continuation of the 
letters we have had before to the same corres- 
pondent. Although of the same nature and spirit 
as later letters, if it be allowable to analyze the pro- 
gress of such a course, we might say that they 
evince more of effort and pains in the Divine life, 
less of the sweetness and peace of his last letters ; 
but this is only a matter of degree, for in both it is 
effort which indicates the same peacefulness, and 
pains the same sweetness of character. Thus the 
growth of Divine charity in the soul is like the 
opening of a flower, first wrapping itself up with all 
closeness in the bud, and with toothed and rough 
leaves clasping around, till it gradually unfolds 
into fuller expansion to the genial air and sun of 
Heaven, receives in its bosom the refreshing dews, 
and makes known its gratitude to Heaven in fra- 
grance to all around. 

" Bussage. Tuesday, 1847. 

" My dear , 

" Though I got your letter on Sunday I have 
been too poorly to look into it till now. I was scarcely 
able to get through the morning service, and unable 
to attend the afternoon, but I hope to go to-night; had 
it not been thus with me, I should not have delayed 
sending an answer so long. 

" Our entire object must be to humble ourselves in 
every way, to embrace every affront or slight as our cross 
sent us to bear, because our Saviour sees it best and 



46 



MEMOIR OF THE 



needful for us. And, moreover, as making us more like 
Him. I hardly know what point of your letter to take, 
but as one seems to trouble you very much, I will turn 
to that. 

" You complain that the thought comes upon you that 
it is the very sin which crucified Jesus. The thought 
indeed is very awful, but then, what sin has not? But 
take it to be the especial sin. Cast yourself at the foot 
of the Cross and confess it, and take comfort in the 
thought that it called forth a special prayer, ' Father, 
forgive them, &c.' Claim your portion in it, that even 
you were included in it. He foresaw it, and included 
you ! Claim His forgiveness, and then pause to adore 
His mercy and goodness ! His exceeding love to you, 
1st, In bearing the punishment of that very sin. 2ndly, 
In not cutting you off in it. 3rdly, In offering forgiveness. 

" Dwell on this love. 

" First. In sorrow that we have sinned so much. 

" Then turn your thoughts to Him Who bore your 
sins, and sympathise with Him ; mourn for Him. And 
that done, ask for grace to hate all sin, as having crucified 
Him, especially that one. Strive to realize the love it is 
sinning against in yielding, dwell on this thought con- 
tinually. I should recommend your daily practising this 
at some time, say in the early morn, or at midnight .... 

" I return the rules. 

" It occurs to me to add to the first, to recollect Whom 
you are holding within you, that it is by His indwelling 
power alone you can resist. Resist the devil and he will 
flee, draw near to God and He will draw nigh to you, be 
in earnest, take to you the whole armour of God, above 
all the shield of faith. Stand steadfast, ever seeking 
help from above ; fight, but not in your own name, but 
as David did against Satan's type, in the Name of God, 



RET. E. A. SUCKLING. 



47 



and you will overcome him as he did. Be of good 
courage, let not your heart be afraid, persevere and all 

will be well 

" God bless you, my prayers shall be with you. 
" Your affectionate father in Christ, 

"R. A. S." 

To the same. 

"Bussage. Jan. 31, 1848. 
" As it may be some time before we meet again, I 
will write what I had intended to say to you, and what I 
could so much better have said, in relation to a passage 
in your letter, the last one I mean. You say in it that 
you ' had been examining your position as a member of 
Christ, and consequently, though that merciful redemp- 
tion enabled you to say, Abba, Father, it has been an 
awful thought, the nearness of our relationship to God.' 
It is on this last portion that I should have preferred 
speaking to you, for it seems to me, that thus to view 
our ' sonship' is to drive us further from peace and 
comfort. If I am living in known sin, or am not con- 
scious that I daily strive against every thought not in 
obedience to the law of Christ, then, and then only will 
the thought of the nearness of our relation to God, be 
an awful thought, for I can only then look on God as 
an Avenger of my sin, a jealous God, and a consuming 
fire. 

" If in answer to this it be said, 1 1 do not live in known 
sin, but am deeply conscious of my guilt and alienation 
from God, therefore the thought of my nearness is awful,' 
I answer, this is separating what God, in Christ Jesus, 
has joined together. Our catechism teaches us that 
infants when they come to age are bound to perform 
repentance and faith. 



48 



MEMOIR OP THE 



" Repentance alone without faith would make the 
thought awful, but faith makes it blessed. 4 This is life 
eternal, (said our Lord,) to know Thee the only true 
God, and Jesus Christ Whom Thou hast sent!' or 
as S. Paul expresses it, ' Testifying repentance towards 
God, and faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ.' 

" My meaning then is this, separate these two and our 
thoughts of God must be awful, but let us add to this, 
faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ, faith in His all- 
sufficient Sacrifice made on the Cross, let us come there 
with our burden of guilt and cast it on Him, exercising 
both repentance and faith, waiting till He speaks peace to 
our souls, and then the thought will be blessed, full of 
comfort, for we shall look on God as a reconciled God in 
Christ Jesus, and seeing the greatness of that love, 
which laid on His only Son the iniquity of us all, we in 
turn shall be filled with love. 

" We cannot love God till we realize this, * We love 
Him because He first loved us.' We must wait then, be 
conscious of, and feel His love towards us, then shall we 
give Him love in return, and so growing in grace by the 
indwelling of Christ in our hearts, we shall more and 
more 'be able &c.' — Ephes. iii. 17 — 19. 

" Thus meditating on His mercies and goodness, grace 
will be added to grace, till perfect love casteth out all 
fear. 

" I will not write more, but only pray that God may 
bless and keep you now and for ever. 

" Ever yours in our blessed Lord, 

"R. A. Suckling." 

The next are apparently addressed to a young 
person in the same place. 



REV. R. A. STJCKLIKGL 



49 



To Miss * * * * 

" Bussage. March 4th, 1848. 

" My dear , 

" I have long been wishing to hear of your welfare. 
##•#### 

" In reading the Bible, I think it so important to have 
our minds in a calm and heavenly frame, that it is best to 
do so early in the morning as part of our devotions, be- 
fore the world, with its crushing thoughts, has awakened. 
I would therefore advise you to rise half an hour earlier 
every morning to do so, commence with a prayer dedicat- 
ing yourself to God, then read the Bible, meditating 
thereon, and finish with your ordinary devotions. As for 
the subject matter of reading, our Lord's Parables, such 
especially as are contained in S. Luke xv. — the Sower, 
the Unjust Judge (as bearing on prayer,) the account of 
the woman of Canaan, the woman in S. Luke vii., and 
then S. John xiv. — xvii., which (after meditation on the 
foregoing) may serve to deepen penitence as showing the 
anxious love of God towards us. 

" This earnestly done will spread its fragrance over the 
whole day, and you will find the passage you have medi- 
tated on in the morning, ever recurring to your mind (if 
you encourage it) with new and varied consolation. It 
will be that well of water springing up within you, which 
will refresh you throughout the day, and which, the 
deeper draughts you take, will prove the more consoling 

and never failing. 

******* 

" I trust with God's blessing you may be enabled to 
undertake some such method ; begin it in entire depend- 
ence on Him, and prayer for His blessing ; be not cast 
down if you do not succeed at first or at once, but re- 



50 MEMOIR OF THE 

member the devices of Satan, (see 1 Thess. v. 8—10,) 

resist him and he will flee. 

******* 

" Yours most sincerely, 

"E. A. Suckling." 

To the same. 

" Bussage. Aug. 31s£, 1848. 

" My dear , 

" I grieve to say that I fear we must postpone our 

visit to , until after our Anniversary, October 6th, 

as I have two or three things pressing upon me very much. 
******* 

" And independent of these, I feel it to be my duty just 

now to stay at home and watch events. Some judgment, 

or perhaps many judgments of God, seem to be hanging 

over our heads and ready to fall upon us, and in such a 

state of things it seems to me to be my duty to stay at 

home, to watch, to warn, and to pray, as laid down in the 

opening of Ezek. xxxiii. But now the Almighty seems 

in judgment to be remembering mercy, and we may yet 

hope for better things than we deserve. 

******* 

" I fear I must now say good-bye : may you continue 
to grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and 
Saviour, is, believe me, the prayer of 

" Yours affectionately, 

"R. A. Suckling." 

To the same, 

"Bussage. Bee. 20, 1848. 

" My dear , 

" I fear, if I remember rightly, you have few op- 
portunities of Services where you now are, which, I doubt 
not, is a source of grief to you. But it is a comfort to 



EEY. E. A. STJCKLIKG. 



51 



think that if we strive to do our duty, God will cause us 
to thrive on the little. (See Dan. i. 15.) I trust, my 
dear child, you are growing in grace and in the love of 
our Blessed Lord, this was the subject we spoke of when 
last together. 

" I have ordered the 6 Pilgrim at the Cross' for you, 
and will send it to you when it comes 

To Miss H . 

"Bussage. May S0th 3 1848. 

" My dear Miss H , 

" Your letter and explanation is perfectly clear, 
and I quite understand you ; you will remember that the 
aim of the writer, 1 is to set forth the perfection of duty 
and love, our highest privilege as well as duty, to love, 
desire, and obey God, for His own glory alone : but who 
has attained to such perfection ? it may be the longing of 
our souls, but the greater that longing, the more do we 
feel our imperfections, in striving after it. So that our 
feeling we have not that high motive, should not decide 
us against any duty, or privilege set before us, because 
we are unworthy ; but should lead us to examine whether 
(as in page 24,) the motive is ever virtually present with 
us, in the pure intention. This would lead us to use all 
means of grace, with the hope of attaining to that we aim 
at, assuring ourselves that they are working, and having 
their power within us, if we are led on to feel, not that we 
are attaining to love Him Who is Light, but so as to 
show us the greater contrast between His unsullied 
brightness and our own unworthiness. This is truly to 
advance, for could we serve Him with an angel's love, 
still He would charge us with folly, and were the bright- 

1 The book alluded to is " the Spiritual Combat." 
E 2 



52 



MEMOIR OF THE 



ness of our Baptism robe to be purified till it equalled 
that of the heavens above, yet we should not be pure in 
His eyes. We advance towards God, only as we seem 
to our own eyes to recede, not from the evidence of evil 
works, but from the increasing sense of our unworthiness 
to render Him an acceptable service. And this is the 
truest way to increase our love, and make Him account 
that we are such as He would have us, for the more we 
view the depth to which human nature was sunk, the 
more we shall adore Him Who stooped so low to rescue 
us, and our meditation hereon cannot but quicken our 
love, and give reality to our actions, so that in spite of 
their imperfections, God will accept them for Christ's 
sake. And do not the thoughts this season calls up, re- 
spond to these ? He our Redeemer has purified our 
nature and made it holy, and ascended into the heavens, 
to present the first fruits to His Father ; and are not 
we members of that same Body, and shall not the purifi- 
cation extend to us ? if the first fruits be holy, the lump 
is also holy. I mean such thoughts act as a corrective 
to despondency, lest the sense of our own defilement lead 
us to it ; unworthy as we are, yet, as members of Christ's 
Body we are accounted holy for His sake. The Father 
does not look on us, in ourselves, but as it were through 
the medium of His glorified Body. And so S. John, while 
he fell at his Saviour's feet, overcome with the exceed- 
ing majesty of His glorified Body, yet gave thanks be- 
cause we had been made kings and priests unto God. 
The sum of all this is, not to take the question, as laid 
down, page 22 (' this delusion, &c.') as the standard to 
examine yourself by, for it is the top of the ladder, (and 
the heart is so deceitful, that you might not attain to it,) 
but to examine whether you are increasing in humility 
and love. Please to write to me, when and as often as 



RET. R. A. SUCKLING. 



53 



you like, and do not let the thought enter your mind as 
to trouble, only I cannot always give an immediate 
answer. 

" Believe me yours very sincerely, 

" R. A. Suckling." 

The young lady to whom the three following letters 
were addressed, was one of a family resident at Ma- 
deira with whom Mr. Suckling became acquainted in 
his short sojourn there, in the spring of 1847. She 
was now sent to England for medical advice, suffer- 
ing from a spinal complaint which confined her to 
the sofa. On an occasion in itself new, we have 
the same delicate touch of gentle consolation, the 
same Divine art of turning all things to the love of 
GrOD. The incident, too, is an indication how all 
time and place seemed to supply him with some- 
thing of which he availed himself for his Master's 
service, not as of constraint, but spontaneously. — 
Beautiful, indeed, as morning on the mountains, 
are the feet shod with the good tidings of peace. 

" Bussage. October, 1848. 

" My dear C , 

" Mr. Lowe tells me that you have come here 
ill, and so I thought it might be some relief to you to 
hear, if only from an almost stranger, as I am. I fear 
your illness is likely to be a long one, but no longer than 
God sees to be fit and good for you. Do you remember 
how much you wished and longed to come to England ? 
God has granted you your w r ish, only not in the way you 
desired, but as He knows to be best for you. Does this 



54 



MEMOIR OF THE 



seem hard to believe ? it is nevertheless quite true, it is 
the way He always deals with us : He always grants our 
prayers and wishes, but then, as He sees good ; just as 
an earthly parent always gives what is good to his child 
when he asks for it, but not those things which he knows 
to be bad ; children, you know, often cry for knives, be- 
cause they know no better, and we are God's children, 
and do the like. 

" What we have to learn, then, is submission to God's 
will, being quite sure that He orders all things for our 
good; though we do not see how. It is hard to learn at 

first, but it is the only way of Peace. 

****** 

" Yours faithfully, 

"R. A. Suckling." 

To the same. 
" Bussage. November \3th, 1848. 

" My dear C , 

" I am so glad you were pleased with my letter. 
I send you a little book, and hope you will be pleased 
with that also ; yours is a great trial to stay so long 
away from home. I hope when you are able to leave, 
you will come here 

" It was very natural for you to wish to come to Eng- 
land ; there was nothing wrong in it, provided you are 
now content to remain as God sees best for you ; you 
know 1 whom He loveth He chasteneth,' and He has 
called you to a hard trial, which you must look upon as 
a sign that He loves you very much indeed, and you 
must try and love Him in return. 

" It is also a merciful trial, because in measure free 
from pain, so that you can think, undisturbed. I am 



KEY. It. A. SUCKLING. 



55 



sure in time you will see that your present affliction was 
best for you. 

" Suppose you had come to England with a careless 
heart, and high spirits, and seen all the wonderful things 
there are to be seen. Is it not very likely it would have 
turned your head, and made you place a value on them, 
they had not ? instead of thinking them vanity, perhaps 
you would have been led to seek your happiness in them : 
now, in sickness, you see their true value. Is not God, 
then, very good in thus mercifully and so gently restrain- 
ing you, holding you back as it were, with a father's love, 
.and bidding you not look for pleasure in this world, but 
to look to the world above, and see what God hath pre- 
pared for them that love Him ! Think over this, and 
you will be able even now to thank Him for your afflic- 
tion : try to think of Him all day, and to love Him more, 
and you will find how happy He can make you, as you 
are ; far more so than ever you could have hoped for, 
from anything the world can give. It is a great trial not 
being able to go to church, but then it is His Will, and 
you say every day, 6 Thy will be done ;' you must join in 
spirit with us who are able, and God will accept it just 
as if you were present in body. If you have not any 
prayers I will send a little book. 

u Very faithfully yours, 

A. Suckling/' 

To the same. 

" February 28th, 1849. 

" My dear C , 

u It is so long since I last wrote to you, that I 
fear you will think I have forgotten you. I have had but 
indifferent health lately, and much work ; it is not that I 
have not thought of you, for I have often. 



56 



MEMOIR OF THE 



" I should very much like to hear from you again, how 
you are, and whether the time passes away as cheerfully 
as when you last wrote. I hope you will not wait for an 
answer from me, but write to remind me if you do not 
get one. 

" I dare say you read your Bible very often now, I 
hope you do, for if you do, you will get very fond of it, 
and with God's blessing on your reading, it will make 
you so happy and cheerful, that you will bless Him all 
your life long, for having sent you this illness. How 
differently He can make us look on things, can He not ? 
that which we once feared, He can make it to be so 
enjoyed ; and what once looked dark, He can make so 
light and pleasant to look on. 

"His mercy and goodness surrounds us everywhere, 
and we should try to love Him very much indeed, as His 
dear children, and to be thankful we have such a kind 
Father to care for us. And now, my dear C , good- 
bye. May God bless you and make you a good girl. 

M Ever yours, 

"R. A. Suckling." 



Devotion and Sympathy. 1849, 1850. 

It is an axiom of Bishop "Wilson's that " in order 
to dispose our hearts to devotion, the active life is 
to be preferred to the contemplative.' 1 The truth 
contained in this maxim may, perhaps, account for 
the circumstance mentioned in that memorable 
saving of S. Bernard's, " You will much more easily 
find many secular persons to be converted to good, 



KEV. R. A. SUCKLING. 



57 



than any single one in the religious orders become 
changed for the better. Most rare indeed is any in- 
stance — rarissima avis in terris — of one who ascends 
ever so little from that grade in a religious life 
to which he may have once attained." (Epist. 
xcvi. ad Rich. Fontan. Abbat.) And Bonaventura, 
" I have seen many who in passing from a secular 
to a religious state have improved and changed 
their life ; I have scarcely seen any who in the 
religious life after their novitiate have turned out 
more fervent and perfect." 

Much the contrary was the case with this our 
friend, the devotional and practical were in him 
so united, and hence his growth in grace. There 
can be no doubt that the well-spring of his life was 
prayer ; it was this that gave that remarkable fer- 
vency to his words and actions ; and again, the 
active duties into which he entered with such 
energy, as that of his parish, the workhouse, and 
the penitentiary, with all the sympathies which 
they drew out and the troubles they occasioned 
him, it was these that gave fervency to his prayers. 

Prayer is the subject ever both deepest and 
uppermost in his thoughts ; in every-day letters on 
business it falls naturally from him as from a full 
heart ; thus incidentally to Mrs. Suckling :— 

"July 7 th, 1849. 
" One good I find in my absence from you, and from 
which I take comfort, is, that I pray much more earnestly 
for you that you may be supported. God bless and be 
with you. ,, 



58 



MEMOIR OP THE 



At another time ; 

" I am glad that you are using the Paradisus ; it is a 
beautiful book. I trust, though separated in body, yet 
our prayers ascend up, that we may be prepared for the 
great eternity before us." 

And again : 

" February, 1851. 
" I trust your absence from home will be good for both 
body and soul. You know a plant must die if it be not 
watered ; so must our souls, unless by prayer, continued 
and persevering, we bring down the dew of the Holy 
Spirit on them. I have had many things to trouble me 
in the parish this last day or two, but it is what we must 
expect. Satan will not let us alone ; and if he does, it is 
a bad sign. We must have no truce with him all the 
days of our life." 

And the same was the case in the trials of daily 
life with his parishioners. 

" He felt deeply," says one who ministered at the same 
altar, " and frequently brought before his people the 
reality of God's answering prayer : often did he inquire 
of the man out of work if he had prayed that morning 
that God would direct him to it. And when there was 
no employment, there was no labourer, no factory boy or 
girl but learned from him that their eyes should wait on 
Him s Who giveth food to all flesh and when destitute 
of what they considered necessary clothing for God's 
house on Sundays, they were urged to come there at least 
on week days, that so waiting upon God He might give 
them raiment to put on. Thus was he ever real with his 
people." 



EEY. E. A. SUCKLING. 



59 



At the daily service, especially in the evening, 
which was at half-past seven, the time at which 
those working at factories could best attend, the 
same person observes, 

" Every one must have felt that his work had its re- 
ward ; and the earnest response and silent attention has 
drawn the confession from many, that ' God is in you of 
a truth !' 99 

It was Mr. Suckling's constant practice on these 
occasions, always to be himself in church when the 
bell commenced, which rung for a quarter of an 
hour, and at the corner of the altar to intercede for 
his flock, both for those who should meet at the 
coming service, and for those who were hindered 
from coming, before he entered the vestry to put on 
his surplice. The same stillness and preparation of 
heart was noticed as very impressive at his family 
prayers, which were preceded by the same solemn 
collectedness of spirit in realizing the Divine 
Presence. 

How much to the same source was owing the 
power of his spiritual labours, and that the exhorta- 
tions, the "burning," as it is said, and life-stirring 
efficacy of his words were in answer to prayer, will 
best appear by one instance found among his private 
prayers. 

" great and glorious God, Who art of purer eyes 
than to behold iniquity ; I cannot speak to Thee, for I 
am vile ! yet Thou hast commanded me to draw near to 



60 



MEMOIR Or THE 



Thy throne of grace, through the merits and mediation 
of Thy well-beloved Sox. For His sake, I beseech Thee, 
put forth Thine hand and touch my mouth, and take 
away mine iniquity, and purge my sin. 

" O Lord, Thou hast called me to be a watchman and 
a shepherd over a portion of that flock which Thou hast 
purchased with Thy Blood ; who is sufficient for these 
things ? that my sufficiency may be of Thee, Who 
dost make Thy strength perfect in Thy servant's weak- 
ness. Give me, I beseech Thee, the tongue of the 
learned, that I may know how to speak a word in season 
to him that is weary, and to warn the rebellious. Open 
my understanding, that I may understand the Scriptures ; 
talk with me in all my goings out and comings in, and 
make my heart to burn within me. When I speak the 
word of life to Thy people, make it in me as a burning 
fire; and do Thou open their hearts to attend to the 
things that may be spoken. Let Thy Word, Lord, 
ever be glorified. 

" Pour out Thy Holy Spirit abundantly on me, that 
I may give myself continually to prayer, and the ministry 
of the Word ; give me the wisdom of the serpent, and 
the harmlessness of the dove ; make me t instant in 
season and out of season ;' let my loins be ever girded 
about, and my light burning. 

"Fill me with such an ardent love for the souls of 
men, that I count not my life dear unto me, but be ready 
to die for the Name of the Lord Jesus. Shed abroad 
Thy love so abundantly in my heart, that I may answer, 
1 Lord, Thou knowest all things, — Thou knowest that I 
love Thee.' 

" Strengthen me in the inner man with the power of 
Thy might, that I may pull down all the strongholds of 
Satan; give me grace to sow seeds of righteousness, 



KEY. R. A. SUCKLING. 



61 



in the morning going forth to sow, and in the evening 
withholding not the hand. And do Thou, O gracious 
God, give the increase, that I labour not in vain ; but, if 
it be Thy will, may see the trees of righteousness bud 
and bring forth fruit abundantly, that our children may 
grow up as the polished corners of the temple." 



It cannot be doubted but that the waiting on 
bodily sufferings, ministering to diseases, and com- 
forting the sick, is subservient to our spiritual well- 
being and the welfare of the soul ; the union of the 
two has some secret connection with the great mys- 
tery of godliness, as set forth and exemplified in 
the Great Pattern "Who " bore our sicknesses and 
carried oin^ sorrows " in expiating sin. And from 
Him the same connection passed to His Disciples 
in the command, " Heal the sick, preach the king- 
dom." And often has it been observed, that none 
derived more spiritual blessings from Cheist than 
those who approached Him under the pressure of 
bodily sufferings, the sicknesses either of themselves 
or of their friends. The care and tendence on body 
and soul are joined in intimate and eternal union 
by God Himself; and it is so as answering some 
need of our compound nature. The one disposes 
to the other. Distress of body, or connection with 
it, softens, humbles, kindles charity, looks to the 
Unseen, Such duties are as beneficial to those that 
minister, as to those ministered unto. And thus 



62 



MEMOIE OF THE 



the following account from one lately referred to, 
who had been his Curate, beautifully describes how 
that sympathy for others, which marked the cha- 
racter of our friend, was intimately connected with 
the great Object of our faith. 

" It might be that his natural character shared largely 
in that power of sympathizing which many have found in 
him, whether from nature or grace ; and it seems to have 
had its root in his own longing for sympathy. He could 
not indeed be called one of a sorrowful spirit, yet his 
trials were not light or few, from continual sickness, and 
from anxiety for his parish, so constant, that even when 
absent his mind was on it ; and so greatly did any evil in 
it affect him, that he has confessed to have spent many a 
sleepless night at the thought ; and even when he has 
gone out for rest, he has said that he had been seeking 
that which he should never find in this world. Such 
things weighed down his soul, and led him to deeper 
longings for that sympathy for himself, which, I am per- 
suaded, he sought and found in the 1 Man of Sorrows.' 
It was a little after midnight one New Year's morning, 
after celebrating the Holy Communion, that we walked 
together on the common ; he spoke of the doctrine of the 
Holy Trinity, and said that it was a truth which lay deep 
in our own nature, — that then only was it fully realized 
when we felt how it responded to the wants of our souls. 
It was then, too, that he remarked, on the Incarnation of 
our Blessed Lokd, ' What a treasure has the poor man 
in that, when he thinks that his God once shared with 
him in cold, hunger, and poverty!' So much did he lay 
hold on the Incarnation as the channel of sympathy be- 
tween himself and his Saviour : and proving in his own 



BET. E. A. SUCKLING. 



63 



soul the blessedness of such communion, was he ready to 
comfort others ' with the comfort wherewith he himself 
was comforted of God.' Thence was his power of sym- 
pathizing with all ; it was this that drew the poor man 
towards him, — he entered his cottage, and threw himself 
into all his wants and difficulties. It may appear a trivial 
thing to mention, but it is not without its meaning, that 
he regulated in some cases his own house, that it might 
be more like that of his poorer brethren ; even fixing, as 
he told me, his hour of dinner at the same time as theirs. 
But perhaps his spirit of sympathy was chiefly seen in his 
love for visiting the sick. The smallness of his parish 
(about 350 souls) did not afford him sufficient cases of 
sickness, and his spirit seemed to long for more of that 
mutual sympathy which a sick room alone draws out. 
He used often to go to the dispensary at Stroud. In one 
case there he took especial interest: it was that of a 
young man who had received fatal injuries by a fall from 
a tree ; he lingered for some while, but not without giving 
hopes that the seed of the Spirit had taken root in his 
heart. It was soon after this that the case of the Stroud 
Union Workhouse was brought before his notice ; it had 
been for some time without a Chaplain, and he felt much 
for those who were thus, as he expressed it, as ' sheep 
without a shepherd.' He thought, too, that he would 
find, in a special manner, that sympathy with the sick 
which his soul desired. It was two miles from his house, 
and the paths across the hills laborious, yet he held the 
position of Chaplain for nearly a year ; and though it was 
far beyond his strength, he refused for a long while to 
resign. He remarked to me, that he never left the sick 
wards without feeling strengthened ; and when he saw 
such instances of God's affliction, felt how resigned he 
ought to be to the lesser trials of life." 



64 



MEMOIR OP THE 



Such an account of Mr. Suckling's life at this 
time seems a suitable introduction to the letters 
that follow ; and both together serve wonderfully to 
show by what means He Who, in His secret coun- 
sels, thought good that his career should be brief on 
earth, seemed fast ripening in him holy affections, 
and uniting him more and more to Himself, by 
exercising this his tenderness of spirit for others. 
Thus did He seem to be drawing him by "the 
cords of a man" into mysterious fellowship with 
Himself. 

This, his compassionate gentleness, knew no 
difference of station; wherever affliction could be 
found, of whatever form, there did he delight to be, 
in presence or healing correspondence. A Clergy- 
man who had seen affliction, one of his oldest 
friends, writes : — 

" The affectionate sympathy of his friendship was very 
remarkable. I have known no greater earthly consola- 
tion in trouble than his gentle words." 

Letters of this kind are necessarily so connected 
with private concerns and persons, that we have 
but slight fragments even of these scanty memo- 
rials which remain : and the Editor cannot suffi- 
ciently express his thanks to those kind persons 
who, not without some sacrifice of feeling, have 
afforded him these means of ministering to their 
friend; thus benefiting others, which is the best 
tribute they can pay to the memory of one, himself 
ever so loving to all, and whose love ceases not. 



EET. B. A. SUCKLING. 



65 



The following letters are to a lady who had lived 
for a short time at Bussage, and perhaps none 
more characteristic of the writer. 

To Mrs. L . 

"Bussage, Ash Wednesday, 1849. 
" My dear Mrs. L. 

"I wish to write a line, though I know not 
what to say. I am very thankful to hear of your safe 
arrival ; your exhausted look, as you hade me good-hye, 
lives in my memory. May the day come when I shall 
be permitted to see you restored to health. I trust Mr. 
L. did not catch cold. Your house looks so deserted ; I 
cannot fancy any one else inhabiting it. Doubtless you 
have felt that, as your day, so was your strength. May 
God in mercy continue to visit you with blessings, is my 
daily prayer. How strange does the past seem ! — how 
soon you came, how suddenly you are gone ! Brought 
here by God Himself doubtless, to be a blessing to you, 
I trust, through all the future. We must be thankful 
for the past, and trust Him for the future. His will be 
done, is the great aim of our life, and if we attain to that, 
O how blessed and peaceful ! Now I must conclude ; 
God bless and be with you. Ever yours in our blessed 
Lord, 

"R. A. S." 

The following to the same person, will show with 
what a high and severe sense of holiness such aiFec- 
tionate gentleness was combined. 

"July 3rd, 1849. 
# # # * * * 

" I think your questions admit of all being brought 
under one head, Gal. v. 17, — a middle point, as it were, 



66 



MEMOIR OP THE 



between God and Satan. The spirit desiring to serve 
God, and often doing so ; but as often, perhaps oftener, 
being conquered. This must always be the case in our 
conversion from the world unto God, occupying more or 
less time, as God in His wisdom shall see fit. It is a 
time full of hope, but also full of peril ; for Satan will not 
willingly resign his share in us : it is, moreover, a state 
which few people get beyond. They lack the spirit of 
self-denial and perseverance, which ends in always con- 
quering, instead of sometimes. This, then, is what you 
must set before you, and aim at nothing short of it. 
Persevering, earnest prayer alone can, by God's grace, 
accomplish it ; no half measures, or efforts with halting 
between two opinions, but a resolute determination to be 
God's alone. It is evident that, if God's Spirit dwelt 
more in us, then we should always conquer. It is the 
gift of God's Spirit, then, which must be the special 
object of our prayers. Pray unceasingly for His further 
indwelling and guidance, and that for the sake of our 
Saviour, Who ascended up for this very purpose, to 
send Him down to dwell in our hearts, to be more to us 
than He was to His disciples, because His presence was 
then external, — the Holy Spirit is [ in us.' Be but in 
earnest ; trifle not, but begin at once to redeem what 
time you can, and give it to God. I think we should 
find, if we dealt truly with ourselves, that the cause of all 
our weakness was the result of our little communion with 
God : our amusements, our meals, &c, these occupy our 
chief time ; while the odds and ends, the parings of our 
time, are reserved for God. But what does He say ? — 
\ strive? and ' many will seek and not be able.' Set Him 
before you, as Him alone whom you have to please, in 
Whose presence joy alone can be found. Meditate on 
His love to you ; pray that you may know the exceeding 



RET. E. A. SICKLING. 



67 



greatness of His love, then all other pleasures will seem 
vapid, all other desires vain. In short, you will have no 
other desire than to love Him, and serve Him more and 

laafroeta ^ni^quooo t aoO oinu hhow edi aio'ft 11018*1971100 

B 81 Si *J& 998 Haifa mSbhl'H 8lH ill CtdQ 8£ t sAi) 8891 

}on'flJohn Drew is much the same. I think there are no 
changes. Mrs. B. and her husband live with Mr. C. 
Xo one has succeeded Mr. S. yet. We have three ser- 
vices on Sunday, — the people wished it ; our hours are, a 
quarter past ten, three, and six. The singing is much 
improved ; no Litany in the morning, but at three, with 
a sermon. I shall not forget in a hurry the gentlemen I 
met at dinner, and who tried to, or rather did, astonish 

Mr. by their accounts of miracles ; very fit subjects 

they seemed for the Church of Rome. It is strange if 
some Roman Priest has not got them by this time. 

Please remember me to H C, and believe me to be. 

(i Most sincerely yours^idc - 
" R. A. Suckling." 
0* ,98oqujq vi9V eid* iojt qu bsbaeozs . odlf t a;J0i7A8 • 
gu of eiom ed at t &JiJ39d%$£i*&WH) oj nwpb miH bade 
mw xmm&iq 8iH seusiad roiqhmh *ftffiiffi a el \$$ < 
MYe both grieve to hear you are not so well, and yet 
hope we may receive better accounts from yourself, — but 
God's will be done ! and I am persuaded that you believe 
and feel that His will is best, whether that will be health 
or sickness. Such an assurance gives a peace the world 
knows not, cannot know, and so neither can take away, 
as it is touchingly expressed in Job xxxiv. 29. — ' When 
He giveth quietness, who then can make trouble ?' 

" Yet I cannot but feel this must be a sore trial for 
you ; when God's will towards us seems determined in 
one direction, and we have submitted to it, then for it to 
be changed tries us doubly. Thus, here sickness seemed 
it 2 



memoir or THE 



your lot, then came your husband's cheering account, and 
I had already pictured to myself the glow of health re- 
turning to your pale cheek ; but to-day's account reverses 
it, — but what then ? still ' His will be done,' for ' as thy 
day thy strength shall be.' ' He will not lay upon man 
more than right and changes from health to sickness, 
or sickness to health, may bring us assurances nothing 
else can, and so may minister to us more abundant con- 
solations. And so they will, if you make them occasions 
of testing your own will ; for such is the frailty of our 
nature, that unless we watch, we soon begin to love God's 
will, not for His but its own sake : and this is proved to 
be so, if, when God changes His will, we cannot follow 
the changes without regret. So that you see all God's 
merciful visitations may be turned to our soul's health, 
and are so intended by Him ; and what bystanders may 
deem a great trial, is only to us a fresh assurance of 
God's loving kindness and tender care, because we feel 
that whatever the trial may be, 1 He maketh our bed,' and 
'-giveth songs in the night/ and lifteth up the soul above 
this narrow world to lofty communings with Himself, the 
God of all consolation. O! those who have known the 
blessings of sickness can never murmur under its appoint- 
ment, for then it is God makes us taste and see how 
gracious He is, and how blessed to trust in Him ; and 
though He lay us low with one hand, yet with the other 
He holds us up, and we feel around and beneath us the 
everlasting arms, embracing, comforting, supporting us, 
yea, cherishing us as a nurse her children. O, then, then 
it is the troubled soul returns to its rest ! it has wearied 
itself flying up and down seeking rest, but this world is 
but covered with the insatiable waters of vanity, and can 
give none, and so it returns to God. The pain of afflic- 
tions is but caused by ourselves. He puts forth His 



KEY. R. A. SUCKLING. 



hand to pull us back into the ark, and we are frightened, 
and struggle to be free ; but 0, if we yield ourselves to 
His tender care, we shall find that with our ceasing to 
Struggle comes repose and peace. His hand cannot 
hurt us if we rest therein. There we are safe ; none can 
pluck us thence. All that I could say or write to you 
must turn on this one point, ' self-resignation,' having no 
will but God's ; and if you attain that, I shall beg you to 
be my teacher, and sit down at your feet to learn. It is 
hard to learn, but in proportion as we learn it, we have a 
peace (whatever our outward trials may be) which cannot 
be explained, because it 'passeth all understanding.' r 

woi'ioi jonnso 97/ Jliw eiH 89gn* do ao3 naxfw { fi <oa sd 
" I send you an account of the Orphan's Home. It 
may cheer your lonely hours to read of the 4 homeless,' 
and make you think of that bright home above, where is 
no pain or sorrow. 

M I trust your husband will not be too anxious about 
you ; it is a great trial for him, but ' all things work to- 
gether for good to them that love God.' Assuring you 
both of my daily prayers far off, no less than when nigh, 
" Believe me to be always yours in our Blessed Lord, 
-taioqqs aii lebnrj luraium -lersn nco s?3aAoi"$vAtr&"i(\ 
won" 993 bins stesi 3ii zsdsm aoQ u ii mdi idi Jnom 
has i miH rii taift* oi $y§fcP*PftT has ,\ 

" Bussage. Nov. 15, 1849. 

3rft au liteonsrf bm bnuoi& ieoT evt Kqjs t qu an shied L 

" My dear , 

"I am deeply grieved, on reading your kind 
letter to Mrs. S., to see how poorly you think yourself. I 
have thought much about you since you have been away, 
and, I hope, prayed for you as well, and not only for you, 
but also for that which is nearest to your heart. It is a 
great trial to you to have been away so long, and to find 



70 



MEMOIR OF THE 



yourself no better, when it was so confidently expected 
your native air would so soon restore you. This, perhaps, 
has added disappointment to it, but the thought is com- 
forting that we are in the hands of a higher Physician 
than this world knows, — One Who cannot mistreat our 
case, or prescribe wrongly for us. The great cure to be 
wrought in us is the cure of self-will, that we may learn 
self-resignation ; and all God's various dealings with us 
have this one end in view. And what happiness is it to 
attain to this, to the perfect knowledge and feeling that 
we are in the hands of a compassionate Father, Who 
cares for our every want, and supplies it too, only in the 
way His unerring wisdom knows to be best, but which 
our short-sightedness would rebel against, because we 
cannot see how it should be so. To attain to this alone 
can bring peace, for then we shall be content with health 
or sickness, weakness or strength, knowing that as we 
are, so God sees best for us, we are in His hands, 1 His 
will be our will.' If He sees fit, welcome sickness, for in 
Him alone is health ; we have the blessed consolation 
that whom He loveth He chasteneth, and that He 
chasteneth us that we may not be condemned with the 
world. Believe it, in sickness and weakness (providing 
we submit to His will) He teaches us more blessed truths 
than years otherwise would suffice to acquaint us with. 
A further consolation we have in the knowledge that all 
things shall work together for good to them that love 
Him. Seek we then for a deeper and yet fuller love, 
look at the gentle and merciful way in which He is d'eaK 
ing with you, and therein recognise His especial goodness, 
and so love Him more.^ nB0 197611 < 91om s ™ 
gnhsdmsffisi <aeoI riwo#iuoY, ?o$ x#r{ dgnotffr ^laixt 

rrs< ^MMg^o^eTfe^ch the same hereA I ;flrr^ x J ri hffr£ 
entered your home but once since you left. How the 



BEY. B. A. SUCKLING. 



71 



country has changed since then ! its face is waxing old, 
like the world itself. It seems worn out, making a few 
flickering struggles to right itself, like the dying lamp. 
May we trim our lamps that darkness come not over us. 
I should like to hear from you if I might. God Almighty 
bless and protect you, and give you grace to love His 
will above your own. ilee lo e-u/o srfr si sir ni irfgnow 
" Believe me in our Blessed Lord ever yours, - 

o$ il 8i saoniqqsd S&dvr bah *W9iv ni " R. A. S." 

isdi gnilsai bnB s-gbobrroaA toohsq 9ifr ot t %idi oi nisiis 

These next two letters to a lady who had been 
his parishioner at Kemerton, are on occasions of 
affliction differing from the former ; yet it will be 
seen how they are ever recurring to the same tone 
of divine resignation and peace. >o»sq^nhd xn$o 

97/ 8B 3sdi gfUWOfli t rf;rgfI9lJs '10 889flif.B9W t 889fDfoia 10 

aiH* <sbmd siH ni q d ( Bussage. March 2nd^^S9^m 
" My dear Mrs. g99g 9 H II \Um wo 9d llrw 

, " I venture to write to you as a friend, to offer that 
consolation, which at one time would have been my duty 
as your pastor, in your late heavy bereavement ; and yet 
I fear all I can say cannot reach beyond sympathy. The 
unerring hand of God has seen fit to remove from your 
visible sight one whose place none else can supply; for 
who can be nearer than a mother ? The slight accounts 
which have reached us, spoke of peace in her last hour, 
and which, I trust, yet casts its shadow forth on you ; 
forming a new bond even in death itself! She has passed 
through much affliction, and now all is over — never can 
she suffer more, never can you again weep for her earthly 
trials, though you may for your own loss, remembering 
it is her gain. And now, too, you may look back on 
those many trials she once suffered, and which perhaps 



72 



MEMOIR OF TffE VM 



perplexed you, why they should be, and see God's 
guiding Hand, how needful and necessary, they were ; 
how each cup of affliction was also full of healing medi- 
cine, — a chastening of the heavenly Physician, because 
He loved her, and would purge away all earthly dross, 
that when purified He might take her to Himself. 

" We cannot fail, in looking back on the afflictions of 
our friends, to see (though our hearts may have bled for 
them at the time) how needful they all were. And this 
will teach you great lessons for the future. , Tribulation 
is the lot, more or less, of all of us ; and should they 
come to you, (as doubtless many trials have, and one I 
know of,) your mother's memory, the thought of her, the 
picture of her life, may rise up in dark days- to dispel 
the cloud, and to shed a bright light on what, else were 
dark and mysterious. lotajsq woy «sw 

" She lias passed for ever from this changing world, to 

rest, we trust, and to join your little . What a 

strange link is it to you ; on either side the dead — yet 
not the dead, but the living — lifting you up, bidding you 
leave this vain world, and fix all your thoughts on that 
above, where mother and child await you, perhaps watch 
over you and pray for you. How .strange to think that 
the child of a few months can, does know what our dull 
senses never can ; and that the one of many years has 
passed through a second childhood, born again, as it 

were, into that new kingdom, to learn what little 

long has known, to be taught by her ! I do not open a 
new source of grief, I trust ; the thought of childhood 
passing pure and, spotless hence cannot be such ; but I 
would link them both together, one on either side of you, 
as guardian angels, to suggest pure and holy thoughts, 
and to speak words of peace. The one indeed has 
wrenched ties and sympathies the other never had, but 



REV. E. A. SUCKLISTG. 



why should they be broken ? They need only to be puri- 
fied, and we to purge our eyes of the dimness which 
gathers round them, as we would trace their pathway 
through the skies. We want but heaven to be a reality 
to us, a rest before us, a long longed-for haven, whither 
all our hopes are fixed, and on which all our affections 
centre, — the one grand all, towards which we stretch ; 
and then we shall learn they have but ended their race 
first, — they have reached the goal we toil for, leaving us 
their example to animate us on. Look back w r e cannot ; 
it has nothing to attract : all lies before in the cheering 
end. I fear I must tire you, and indeed I need to apo- 
logise for intruding on you so ; I began to write a few 
lines, and it has reached this. Yet, believe me, they 
proceed from recollections I cannot efface, that once i 
was your pastor, 
oi t bhow gnigriBno aid* mrttyHpffsbteWfyM&?d& * 

. 9lttil °iuox nio^ A. Sucklinck'V^'J 

19^ — bseb sdi obh °iedfid no \ jjov, oi ii ai jfnil Q-gn&ila 
uo\ -gnlbbld <qu nov, fg^J"J«§S^ 7 ^ 9 ^ ^ K baeb orfj ion 
Sadi no aid-guodi iuo\ lib xn nns <bhow niav aidi sv&A 
doiaw aqadisq t uo^ ^muU'^P a MB4fP^m?im^Jodn 
ia'jjfcyfig&g} J^r^^asxis. woH jjo\ sol yfiiq bna nov, =1970 
Hub nm Ifi4^ce?v¥tf fdtife ffiffefc- the morning I was 
starting for London, and it would have been a great relief 
to me, in the midst of its bustle, to have answered it. 
But I could not find the time, though I did not cease to 
think of and pray for you, that this heavy affliction may 
in (teed prove a blessing in the end. Well do you pray 
that trials may not leave us as they 1 find us 5 it were sad 
indeed to think so, but by God's grace they will not, 
if we in earnest pray they may not. You feel yourself 
unstable; in that feeling lies your strength: may you 
ever continue to do so. It is our imagining that we have 



74 



MEMOIR OF THE 



strength, which causes us to fall. Your child lies in per- 
fect confidence in your arms — it feels no fear : fear comes 
with the desire to test its own strength, and walk alone. 
It is this we are bid copy, when told to become as little 
children; we are never to try, never to test our own 
strength, never to try to walk alone ; but as the infant 
reposes in its mother's arms, and feels her strength its 
strength, (and is it not so ?) so are we in God's, — He is 
our strength. 

" And to feel this we must first realize our own weak- 
ness ; that of ourselves we are unstable — must fall ; and 
so we learn more surely where to look for help, even to 
Him, Who is ' a present help in trouble.' )J3 3 YfiI { J 

" The one great act, then, which must thus bind us to 
God, is prayer ; that is the source of communion between 
us and Him. Without it we are weak, helpless, dis- 
tressed, cast down ; with it we are everything. It is our 
refuge in all distress, our comfort in affliction, our strength 
in all weakness. I would, then, in all sincerity, urge 
prayer on you ; increased prayer, I mean, as a privilege 
and a duty. I would not speak of duty ; it is so cold a 
term. God is our Father, and we are His adopted 
children, and may approach Him in prayer, and lay our 
every want, and care, and anxiety — that, too, which none 
other heart can know but our own ; all this we may lay 
before God, with the fullest, deepest assurance that not 
a sigh, or desire to know Him better and love Him 
better, escapes Him, or is unanswered. Doubtless, now, 
you feel with bitter pang the loss of a parent's love, — 
you feel a void in your heart which none can till 5 and 
yet there is One should fill it,— God Himself. He can 
and will be to you more than parent, more than all and 
everything this world can give. All earthly love is given 
us, to teach us of God's love to us ; and when He with- 



KEY. E. A. SUCKLING. 



draws the objects of our affections, it is that we may give 
the more to Him. He alone, in its truest and most real 
sense, is our Father, in that He teaches us all, parents 
and children alike, to say, ' Our Father.' I am sure, 
then, there is deep comfort in the thought of God as our 
Father ; not as an angry one, but loving, pitying, caring 
for us wifh an unearthly love. It is a thought which 
lifts us up above the cares and sorrows which surround 
us, to repose in confidence in His everlasting arms, which 
are around and beneath us. 

" Prayer on our part is the binding link to Him, and 
even that is His gift, and must itself be prayed for. But 
I have again unconsciously exceeded the limits I had 
proposed myself, and I fear, wearied you, and yet I trust 
nftfswted noinuflimoa to 90.li/Ga &di ai isdi \ 'is^Biq si t aoO 
-gib t z*slqJ.3d fAssw ens aw 3i*tuod)iW .miH has zis 

" I feel in some way as if I could sympathise most 
with those in sorrow and affliction. I trust that it is 
not that I am of too melancholy a turn of mind 5 if 
so, you must forgive yours, most faithfully, but un- 
worthily, : ° 3oa bluow I b bn& 
beiqobs aiH sib aw bns t aaHTA/Bj^; a. Suckling." 
tjjo t£b! bflfi t i9'^Biq ni miH fioBO'iqqis \aca bus t aeibiido 
anon doidw t ooi j&di — y^ixrxs <9iso bas x 3a&w neve 

Perhaps the following may be a little touched 

with the roseate tint of his own glowing mind at 
the time ; ban isiiai mill woaA ol 9iia9b 10 <d'gia b 
t won <aa9Muo(I ^bs'iswsnsau ax 10 <miH 39qBoa9 /I9}j9d 
— t 97ol a^fi9ii5q b \c « Bussage. March 2\st, 1849. 

" My dear Miss H , nam ai bby a fesi uo^ 

itbo 9II «iI|§gjjSfter all, I shall fail in giving you a 
real picture of the Sisters of Mercy in ■ -us^-oS I'here was 
something so unearthly about them, that it would require 
a pen less tinged with earth than mine, to write properly 



MEMOIE Or THE 



of them. Xot but that all their business lies in the 
world: yet they seem somewhat like angels let down, to 
show men how they may be both. Their life is not 
inactive, and yet full of contemplation. Indeed, did 
worldly people do what they do,— -I mean people of a 
worldly mind, — they would be called 4 bustling people,' 
and we should say they did too much, and left themselves 
scarce time for thought. But this is guarded against in 
their case by rules of silence. They go to their work, 
two and two, in silent meditation \ if one reads, or talks, 
or ministers, in the place they go to, the other prays in 
silence. They ' salute no one by the way,' for that would 
tend to draw off their minds from their heavenly ealling. 
Each in early day has their work assigned them, whether 
visiting sick, tending the hospital (in the parish) or 
teaching their orphans, or in their school j some remain 
at home. One \ carries the bag/ and does the household 
business, and yet she is not cumbered thereby with much 
serving : for there are the seven daily hours of prayer, 
wherein they may sit at Jesus' feet, and learn the one 
thing needful : another has charge of the oratory, to 
keep it neat and clean. I will not take you into it, lest 
a bird of the air should steal in too, and tell the Plymouth 
Inquisitors what food for contention there is therem. 
Each sister has her desk j they chant only at Vespers, 
and heavenly music it must be. Sometimes a door that 

leads into the parlour is open, that sister , who is 

sick, may join as she sits in the arm-chair. They are so 
kind and gentle to her; she is one of the most valuable 
of all, and they say when she speaks, her speech drops 
wisdom, she is so full of heavenly love. The orphans are 
her especial care. On a Thursday morning, when I 
assisted to administer the Holy Communion to them in 
Church, she was led up by the mother, (who seems more 



REV. a. A. SUCKLING. 



77 



than mother to them all,) and I cannot describe to you 
the feelings that €ame over me in that hour; I shall 
never forget it. There was something in their manner 
not peculiar, but so unearthly, that I felt I was brought 
within holy influence. One sister in particular struck 
me ; not, I say, that her manner Was peculiar, but it was 
natural,— she seemed to know and feel the awfulness of 
the mystery she was celebrating, and so communicated it 
to me. I could describe her, and on inquiry I learned 

she was sister I believe Miss ■ was there; she 

was with them some time in that day. They have had 
much opposition to contend with from the world, and 
have still, but in lesser degree ; they still are called nuns 
by people who know no better, for the world never can 
know them. If the world had known the Saviour, it 
would know them ; for they are of the company of those 
holy women who followed Him, and ministered unto 
Him of their substance. The world cannot know them, 
but those whom they minister to for His dear sake de 
know and appreciate them. One of the Curates told me 
many touching incidents of their labours of love and 
works of mercy, which show them to be, not only in 
name, but in deed and in truth, all they profess to be. I 
need not say after this they are happy and joyful ; for, 
abounding in the work of the Lord, they have 'joy and 
peace, unknown, passing understanding:' the Psalms 
come home to them as real words, ' I am a stranger on 
the earth.-' ' My joy shall be in the Lord.' It is their 
eon slant companion. They repeat the 119th daily, and 
the rest of the Psalms they go through weekly ; their 
service-books are not printed, but they write them them- 
lelves, and some of them illuminate. They salute one 
another with a holy kiss morning and evening; all re- 
proofs they receive in silence. If blamed unjustly, yet 



78 



MEMOIR OF THE 



silence is imposed ; they may vindicate themselves three 
hours afterwards. They have a regular service before 
and after every meal, which is received in silence ; and 
in Lent, after dinner, they kneel down and repeat the 
51st Psalm. After this description, will you wonder that 
I was anxious to get Anne Buckle there as a serving 
sister ? I described her character through Hannah to 
the mother, who agreed to take her ; but her mother will 
not part with her, I have heard this morning. There can 
be no medium, — a sister must either be very happy or 
very miserable, — I believe them all to be the former. 
There is now one year of probation before they become 
and are admitted as regular sisters, which gives time for 
them to know and prove their hearts. I little supposed, 

a few years ago, when I used to walk and talk with 

and yourself about these things, I should ever be able to 
relate you the reality of them ; but such is the case, and 
such things now are, not wer#. May they be too, and 
may God bless and prosper them, and keep them, and 
increase them, and make them to abound more and 
more. 

" Yours ever, 

" R. A. S." 

ai ed jisrfw isvoiroU .modi Jo9q39i oi riao lud <§iiiU&) 
The occasion of the following most affecting and 
beautiful letter is sufficiently indicated by its con- 
tents — well worthy to be written in letters of gold 
in this age of " marrying and giving in marriage," 
of which our blessed Lord has spoken in such 
words of warning, nay, to be written, alas ! in how 
many families, in letters not of gold that perisheth, 
but in the light of that fiery Hand that wrote on 
the s*( bho fi odi nl 4 t 8§ahfr io wbio Isnrtsa 



REY. B. A. SUCKLIKa. 



79 



"Bussage. March 24th, 1849. 

" My dearest sister, 

" I do sincerely sympathize with you in this 
fresh and heavy trial, but it is a great comfort to know that 

you will be able to consult next week and I pray 

that his advice may direct your future course. I much 

hope that T will write to me, because I can lay the 

matter calmly before him. You have as much right to de- 
cide on your course of life as he has. . . . He has not even 
the advantage of years over you, to give him authority. 
All the sacrifice is on your side, and he should remember 
this. It has come to my recollection that probably the 
point on which he believes me to agree with him, is this : 
he asked, ' Do you think it would be right for any one to 
join a sisterhood, while a sick sister required her care ?' 
I at once answered, 6 It would not be right/ I knew 
what he alluded to of course, but as he made no further 
remark, I did not : besides, it was not the point ; you are 
quite independent, you might if you liked go and live by 
yourself, but you do not choose, you consider it your 

duty to be with T , but you have another calling in 

view, you sacrifice it for him, you do so willingly, you do 
not expect him to enter into your feelings respecting that 
calling, but only to respect them. However when he is 
settled in his calling, you will then follow yours, and you 
do follow it now, excepting where it interferes with the 
line of duty you have laid down to follow towards him : 
he ought to be thankful to you. 

" You see I view the case apart from feeling, but yet I 
hope not harshly : you must meekly assert your inde- 
pendence, bring him, I mean, to see it, that you are as 
free as he is. : giaital ni t 8silim*jii /nem 

" And now to view it in another point, it follows in the 
natural order of things, ' In the world ye shall have 



80 



MEMOIR OF THE 



tribulation.' 1 My son, if thou come to serve the Lord, 
prepare thy soul for temptation,' (read the chapter, 
Ecclus. ii.) Satan cannot shake your integrity, so he 
stirs up relations against you ; now their opposition must 
be sifted to ascertain the real ground of their objections, 
and in this case, it lies, as I said, deeper than those put 
forth ; so that you may be sure there is some truth in the 
step you are about to take. Why should you be lost to 
the world, why cannot it hold you, has it no charms, can- 
not you enjoy it a little ? so argues the tempter, and then 
come relations thinking we are beside ourselves, they 
blame us, ' shoot out bitter words' at us, and in our 
hearts we begin to despond, and would, but that a voice 
speaks therein, saying to us, ' Whoso doeth My will the 
same is My sister.' O what words of comfort, 1 My 
sister !' Lord, whence is this that Thou shouldest thus 
come to me, and soothe my aching heart with such 
heavenly balm ? ' My sister !' dost Thou, Lord, conde- 
scend to call me sister ? Thou Who knowest the heart, 
and seest not as man seeth! O blessing beyond all 
thought, bliss unutterable ! to be Thine, wholly by Thy 
choice, to be named by Thee ! it is that hidden name 
Thou givest. And O does He not fulfil His Word? 

whosoever hath left for My sake, shall have mother, 

brothers, sisters. Has He not found you a mother, more 
than mother, and sisters more than sisters ? blessed be 
His Name ! what then if He add, 1 with persecutions ?' It 
only assures us more truly of His Presence : did all go 
well, we should doubt the way, whether it were true or 
not, because the way He trod was rough. But since our 
way is rough and desert, we feel with deep conviction, 
that it is His appointed way, the way of the Cross, for we 
feel weary, dejected, cast down, in our own strength, as 
the Cross lies on us, and yet we feel supported with 



BEY. B. A. SUCKLING. 



81 



unearthly strength, we have peace of mind amid tribula- 
tions — His peace : enough : we rejoice, in that we see 
clear tokens of His guidance. The Lobd is our portion, 
therefore we suffer here with Him ; . that henceforth we 
may reign with Him in glory. No, if T- — — thinks you 
sit too long at Jesus' feet, that the world requires your 
service, you have His authority, that one thing is needful. 
He invites you to choose that good part; one brother, 
already at His feet, 1 beckons you to come and sit there 
too— which shall you obey ? Let Jesus decide : He has 
cut away from you earthly relations, so that you stand 
almost alone in your youth unprotected. Father and 
mother have forsaken you ; who should take you up ? 
You have no earthly place to rest in, no friendly bosom 
on whom to recline. But He bids you come to Him ; 
He will give you rest — rest, yes ! it is yours to rest on 
Jesus' bosom ! Stand not without, then ; break through 
the crowd; His arms are open to receive thee. He bless 
<Jth$d, %jbl$&woni[ odlT uoffT S '19*218 em flar) ot htt&Q& 
Us buoyed ^nteesld O I dime mm m " R. A. 
^riT rd yllodw t 9ninT ad of ! Qldr/istivnu mid jd'gmds 
The following is worthy of being preserved from 

the valuable advice, ever to be remembered, at the 
<i8l(i§S? b7j>d ILsifa ,9ii5ayM *£ol — jftol rftorf i&rteto&w 
mom t i9ifiom & uo'{ brwdi Son 9H 3&H *8S9Jaia ,§nE9&Joid 

" Cavendish Hall April 27, 1849. 
A VM$>&mem®difr^pB 9H li mdt tedw I amM ?;R 
" The delightful change in the weather, of which 
you speak, has not reached here; it is milder certainly, 
but continues to rain, so that your description increases 
my longings to get back again ; for I believe J — D — 
speaks truly, ' I get little good by being away.' In short, 
I am seeking an impossibility, indulging in a vain dream 

1 Alluding to one who was dead. 
G 



s2 



MEMOIR OF THE 



when I look for rest here below ; and it is well I should not 

find it: idleness I have found indeed, but that fatigues. 

****** 

-rain bnuow o? aert mt ; el^nita B juoaJrw strion xiiir 

" The unsettledness you mentioned to me, I thought 
arose from having overtaxed your strength. I trust rest 
of body will bring rest of mind to you. and that by getting 
half an hour every morning for meditation, or as intro- 
ductory to it, for calm reflection, you will, through God's 
grace, obtain evenness of mind. I know of nothing more 
profitable towards producing that self-possession you 
spoke about. 

" Your affectionate pastor, 

" K. A. Suckling." 

The three following letters are of a domestic 
nature, but the kind reader would be sorry to lose 
them from the thoughts to which they give rise : 
the spirit bowed and bent for a moment, only with 
the greater elasticity to fly upward. 

" Cavendish. Monday, April 30th, 1849. 

••My dear Mrs. P , 

It is but a sad account that I can give of poor 

little baby : this morning I hardly expected to be 

able to say he was alive. The poor little fellow has in- 
rlammation of the lungs. Last night Mrs. Suckling and 
myself sat up all night, and have not yet left him. You 
would hardly know him, he is so altered ; it is most sad 
to witness his patient sufferings, and see his imploring 
look, but yet we hope for the best, fancying he is not 
worse now. He has scarcely any strength. He seems 
to know that the pain is laid upon him by a higher 
power than ours, and submits without a murmur, though 



BET. E. A. SUCKLING. 



83 



evidently suffering much. I trust, if it pleases God to 
take him, we too shall submit without a murmur, but it 
will not be without a struggle ; for he has so wound him- 
self around our hearts by his sweet winning ways, more 
fit for heaven than for this earth, and such as we. I 
cannot but forbode that, ere you read these lines, his 
gentle spirit will have been freed from all pain for ever, 
and be among the redeemed of the Lamb above ; and 
who could wish him better ? Relying on your prayers^ 
I remain, 

" Your affectionate pastor, 

"R. A. S," 

To the same, 

" Cavendish Hall May 5th } 1849. 

" My dear Mrs. P , 

"Dear baby is decidedly better to-day, and 
begins to take a little notice of his toys again ; but he is 
sadly altered, and reduced to about half his weight. I 
do not know that I shall be able to describe to you the 
scene of his illness, though it is very vivid to my mind, 
and must ever live there. I have seen but little of sick- 
ness in children, and am perhaps more impressed with 
his on that account ; but be that as it may, I never at- 
tended a sick bed by the side of which I learned so much, 
as I have in watching by his little cot, or at which I have 
witnessed so much patience. His sufferings, poor little 
fellow, which were extreme, were borne without a 
murmur. I can truly say with the poet, 

■ O dearest, dearest boy, my heart 

For better lore would seldom yearn ; 
Could I but teach the hundredth part 
Of what from thee I learn !' 
Gt 2 



hi 



MEMOIR OP THE 



Therein I saw an image of the Saviour's sufferings. I 
saw them in a clearer light than I had done before, and 
learnt thereby how, in all things, we must become as little 
children before we can enter the kingdom. This little 
child without speech explained to me, and spoke to my 
heart of how He opened not His mouth and was dumb, 
as a lamb before her shearers. For such literally was 
he. I can never forget his agonizing look to me for 
help. Mrs. Suckling's was the sterner part, as she ap- 
plied the remedies. Poor child ! he looked all around for 
help, but his eye lit only on strange faces, which increased 
his terror. At last he recognized me, and with a living 
expression of eye and face which said, 1 save me,' he, by 
a strong effort, raised his weak frame up, and held out 
his little arms, nothing doubting I should take him ; but 
when he saw I moved not, his features relaxed into 
despair, and sinking back into his mother's arms, seemed 
to say, 1 Put not your trust in princes, nor in any child of 
man, for there is no help in them/' Instantly he seemed 
resigned, as if having put his trust where alone it could 
not be deceived. It was this unearthly character in his 
illness that confirmed my fears, and made me think he 
would not live : there seemed therein too large an 
element of the heavenly to bloom on this rank earth ; 
but God in mercy thought not so, and I was wrong to 
think it, for the promise was that this desert should yet 
again blossom as the rose, and jEsrs, the true Gardener, 
(as Mary rightly called Him,) has watered it with His 
precious Blood, that henceforth there should flourish in 
His courts sweet flowers, and trees of righteousness of 
the Lord's planting. And such is our dear babe, and 
as such we receive him back, to train him up in the 
Lord's service, as a lamb of His pasture, whom even 
here below He will lead beside the still waters, and 



BEY. R. A. SITCKLIKG. 



85 



onwards in the paths of righteousness for His Name's 
sake. 

" I could thankfully have resigned him, had it been 
God's will ; blessed be His Name for enabling me to say 
so ! for there would have been the deep, all-comforting 
certainty of his being received into the company of those 
who follow the Lamb whithersoever He goeth, and the 
ever-present thought that he w r as singing that new song 
which no man knoweth ; and O, how can words express 
it? O comfort for mourning parents! that the infant 
tongue w T hich never found utterance here, should be 
loosed to praise unceasingly Him Who alone is £ worthy.' 
Yes, great as would have been the affliction, I weighed 
it all in my mind as I held him in my arms after the 
medical man had bade me cease to hope, and my heart, 
though filled with sorrow, was in awe and amazement at 
the thought, that such should be the employment (in a 
few hours) of his infant tongue, undefiled by earthly 
utterance. 

" And now life is spared, I can and do with thankful- 
ness look forward to that higher blessedness set before 
him, which in God's counsel is his, and I earnestly trust 
in His foreknowledge also, through the merits of our 
Redeemer. That hour of agony was caused by the 
alone thought that, for sin of mine, his earthly course 
was being shortened, and the prize of the high calling 
not set before him, that he might run and obtain. You 
may remember how, in speaking of those beautiful lines 
of Sewell's, I said I could not take the same view as he 
therein does of Holy Baptism, viz., that the greatest 
blessing he would w T ish for the child was to die in his 
baptismal holiness. I cannot look upon its blessedness 
as such, W'hich when once we sin can never be attained 
to, as a w r hite robe given, from which the stains of sin can 



66 



MEMOIR Or THE 



never be so wholly effaced, as to place the person in the 
same high state again. I think it a wrong way of stating 
the blessedness of baptism. If it were thus to be looked 
upon, then ought we wholly to rejoice in the death of 
infants, and wish them no greater blessing than to see 
the light and die. Such blessedness, (and it is far too 
great to enter our thoughts,) whatever it may be, is not 
the blessedness of such as do righteousness. 

" This beautiful season furnishes me with an illustra- 
tion : the leaves are just shooting forth in their virgin 
greenness, — this they will soon lose ; the action of the 
sun's heat and the dust will soon defile them ; nor can all 
the rain of heaven, cleanse them as it may, restore the 
virgin tint. Contact with earth, as with sin, defiles. For 
the world is fallen, and whenever it touches aught fresh 
from its Maker's Hand, it leaves its mark. But we do not 
want leaves only ; it is the fruit we look for, and which 
alone can satisfy. And so in the Spiritual life, contact 
with the world destroys that indescribable beauty, which 
rests as a token of heavenly birth upon early youth ; its 
base alloy soon dims the fine gold of heavenly birth ; and 
much as we must regret it, yet when we know it to be 
the natural consequence of the heavenly being placed 
with the earthly, and the end for which it is placed, that 
it may overcome the world, — then we cease to regret its 
absence ; and not content with admiring a sight beautiful 
only in itself, we desire to behold it in its maturer state, 
when the armour no longer bears marks of newness, but 
proofs that the wearer has been in battle, — when the 
character no longer is untried, but yields the fruits of the 
Spirit, and its light shines before men : betokening that, 
when the Lord of the harvest comes, there shall not only 
be grass growing upon the house-top which withers ere 
He can pluck it, but also such as He Who bindeth up 



RET. R. A. SICKLING. 



87 



the sheaves may fill His bosom with. To such, a far 
higher blessedness belongs than the brightness of the 
baptismal robe, unsullied only because untried, — the 
blessedness of such as ' overcome* To such, as having 
fought the good fight, it is said, \ He that overcometh, 
the same shall be clothed in white raiment? and to them 
it shall be granted to be ( arrayed in fine linen, clean and 
white ; for the fine linen is the righteousness of saints.' 
So throughout Scripture, the higher promises are to him 
that I overcometh? 

M And now I must close. Your kind interest in the 
dear babe made me think a slight description of his illness 
would not be unacceptable ; but I find my thoughts have 
expanded to a sermon, and it is time I check them : indeed 
I feel half ashamed to send what I have written, for it is 
but the history of an infant, and infants suffer every day, 
die daily, and daily die. Your own sister-in-law has but 
just lost one ; why then should I so occupy you, and that 
too with an account too likely overdrawn by one deeply 
interested ? Such as it is, then, I send, with one word in 
answer to your kind inquiries ; we are, thank God, well, 
but very tired ; now that anxiety has passed away, in 
measure, we feel it more : but this fine weather, if it re- 
stores baby, who sleeps so placidly beside me, with his 
pale, calm features, will likewise us. So farewell. 

" Your affectionate pastor, 

"R. A. Suckling." 

1u 4 ( a g9flW3ii 1o sAiiica eisod la'Qflol on iuoctub arfj rrorfw 
With regard to the deaths of baptized infants, 

although the thoughts that occur in the above 

letter are well known to be those also expressed in 

one of Mr. Newman's Sermons, the editor does not 

intend to express his agreement with this opinion 

nor his dissent from it ; but merely to withhold 



88 



MEMOIE OF THE 



any opinion whatever on this mysterious subject. 
The more is he inclined to state this, from his 
more than agreement with the sentiments of the 
letters that follow. 

To Miss H . 

" Cavendish Hall. Saturday, 1849. 

<•' My dear Miss H , 

" I fear that you will have been expecting to 
hear from me about your little god-child, and I should 
have written, was on the point of doing so, when your 

kind inquiry came to , and so I left the task to her, 

as I had many others which I could not depute, and then 
your own brother having just lost his child, it seemed but 
making too much of this little one's sufferings to intrude 
them on you ; a kind of selfishness, as if there were no 
other child in the world. The knowledge that others are 
suffering like or greater trials than our own, opens a field 
of sympathy unknown before. The afflicted ones of 
Christ stand out in a new light, and a sympathetic cord 
is seen binding all together as one in the Man of Sorrows, 
so that I feel, now that my immediate trial is over, more 
inclined to dwell on his present than our past one, if it 
be past. Sorrow for the loss of infants must be the 
purest of all sorrows, because there is nothing earthly in 
them, no stain of sin to mourn over ; their very commu- 
nion was not with us, and if so, but secondarily, rather 
with something unseen; and though our own heart's desire 
would have been that the fair bud should burst and shed 
its fragrance on our declining days, and gladden by its 
beauty, yet, if it is the decree of Him Whose face their 
angels behold, that while much like them, in their free- 
dom from sin, and its defiling knowledge, they should be 
taken, ere the bud has burst, surely there is much of com- 



RET. R. A. SUCKLING. 



89 



fort that such should be His will ; for He doeth all things 
well, and doth not willingly afflict. There is comfort in 
the knowledge that never w r ill they go astray, their dawn- 
ing minds will not open upon an imperfect world full of 
sorrow, their affections will not be placed where they 
cannot have their full scope, even though they awaken to 
a parent's love, and to lean on its imperfections, but will 
open out upon One, all perfect, all loving, their Father 
in the deepest, fullest sense ; their infant tongues, instead 
of learning to lisp our name, will at once pass, undefined 
by earthly utterance, to the praise of Him Who has re- 
deemed them, once being an infant as they. And then 
the thoughts and anxieties that are spared, the number- 
less rocks on w 7 hich childhood splits, the perils of youth, 
the danger of hereditary diseases, sicknesses, all the sad 
catalogue of the evils of the fall. But then there are the 
endearments of childhood, which are forfeited, for the 
sake of which the parent is willing to risk all these. 
The flower gave but token of its fragrance, and was 
snapped off, as by some rude frost : not so, it is but post- 
poned ; it shall be enjoyed in heaven, pure and unalloyed, 
apart from all these risks and certain sorrows. Added to 
this must be the thought that God is more the Father 
of the child than we. Just, then, as we remove dangers 
from our children (though they may not discern them) so 
He removes them from it, and it from them. We may not 
murmur, or if we murmur, our murmuring has not more 
of reason in it than the child's cry, when w r e take away 
the plaything they delight in, because it would injure. 
But beyond this, and above all, the child was given by 
God to train for heaven,— for no other end ; if, then, He 
take it there without our training, should we not rejoice ? 
Thus far on this side the question ; but then comes one, 
which indeed can only be touched generally on, how far 



90 



MEMO IE OF THE 



it is a punishment for sin on our part? But this we 
may assert, that in all cases such bereavement is to bring 
us nearer to God, to make heaven more a reality to us, 
prayer more felt to be our duty, and praise our occupa- 
tion and delight. Part of our great sorrow in the loss of 
relations, is that, having lived as if this world were real, 
and the next unreal, when they are summoned to it, they 
submit only with the understanding, not with the affec- 
tion and will ; so that sorrow often (and almost entirely 
in the loss of infants) is in proportion to the unreality of 
the unseen world to us. For if heaven be our home, our 
affection there, our conversation there, and we seeking 
its things, not those of the earth, then we must rejoice in 
the knowledge of any that are there, though we sorrow 
over our own bereavement, in being left in our pilgrimage. 
It follows then, that to mourn less and rejoice the more in 
all our trials, we must have our life hid more and more 
with Christ in God; blessed indeed are those that mourn 
over sin and sorrow, and the deep hold this fallen world 
gains over our hearts, while the next has scarcely any ; 
mourn that we are so far from God, our life so little hid 
with Christ in Him, our affections so little purified, our 
love so cold that we cannot pierce the cloud of sorrow and 
withered hopes, and stand in spirit around the eternal 
Throne, close to those we love, and hear the echoes of 
their dear loved voices, or learn, it may be, their rich, 
full tones for the first time, as they join the multitude of 
the redeemed, not lost in its countless host, or their own 
insignificance, but each in their own identity, bearing 
God's Name on their foreheads, and loved with an ever- 
lasting love. All this may be ours, and in infants, apart 
from the harrowing thought that sin of ours may have 
somewhat dimmed their brightness, or taken from the 
lustre of their crown. Let the mourner strive but to 



EEY. B. A. SUCKLIKG. 



make heaven a reality, as the surest way to soothe all his 
sorrow ; for there the consolations of God abound, and 
His peace is given passing understanding ; the mourner 
has pierced heaven in faith, and taken it from thence. 
But time warns me to close, and nature also, for I am 
keeping vigil by the child's cradle, and the early dawn of 
day peeps in at the window, (for it is nearly four,) and 
the birds are beginning their matin song, ere the sun is 
up, showing us, (would that we could thus look for the 
dawn of that eternal day !) the rising of that sun which 
shall never set. O may it arise in our hearts, in this 
distant land of our pilgrimage, to guide us in all our 
ways, a glimmering light, but shining more and more 
unto the perfect day ! 

" ' When shall that day arise, O God, 
Which ne'er shall set in gloom ? 
When shall we reach that blest abode, 
Where sorrow cannot come V 

" Ever yours, 

" R. A. S." 

There is to the writer such an indescribable 
charm about these letters, from that sweet and divine 
reality which pervades them, that although there 
may not be anything new in substance, nor in the 
form in which it is expressed, yet the simple ear- 
nestness of tone, so to speak, is such, that he knows 
not anything like it. But he can scarcely hope to 
find others feel it altogether with himself. 

-1979 fl£ fmW 1)9701 DIXB {rUjBtJlte'lot 'ilSftJ flO 9£fl.fc>/i 8 (IGU 

g Cavendish Hall. June 15th. 

ft My dear Mrs. , 

" It is a great disappointment to me to think 
that you will visit Bussage in my absence. I should 



92 



MEMOIR OF THE 



have liked to have shown and yourself its beauties, 

and more especially to have answered personally your 
note, but as it cannot be, I must not repine, but content 
myself by telling you how sorry I am to be away, and 
what pleasure it would have given me to have seen you. 
Our troubles with our baby prevented my answering your 
note at once, and also the difficulty of the subject of 
prayer. I might have referred you at once to a volume of 
the Plain Sermons, (which I think you have,) the third 
one, as containing two, on wandering in prayer, which 
are most excellent ; I consider them very valuable. You 
say you find it difficult to pray as you ought, — your 
thoughts will wander ; it is a very painful discovery to 
make, yet also full of comfort, because we are actually 
praying better, else the discovery would not have been 
made. It is a proof that God's Spirit is pleading with 
us, in showing us our failings ; for His Spirit dwells 
in us. It is described by Solomon as searching our 
hearts, as with a candle. The fuller light then, but 
makes the errors more plain by bringing them to light. 
So God's Spirit, the more He dwells in us, shows us 
more and more our sins and failings. It is not that they 
are more, but, that the increased light has made visible 
what was in darkness before. So that while we may be 
cast down at seeing how great a work we have to do, we 
must also be assured, that God's Spirit Who has begun 
the work in us, will also continue it, if we strive with 
Him. 

"You could not do better than begin daily self-examina- 
tion, only not too much at once, not too many questions I 
mean. And as to the best means of preventing wander- 
ing in prayer, you must remember that we are very much 
in the condition of people recovering from illness, whose 
strength is little and digestion weak. We therefore, as 



EET. R. A. SUCKLING. 



93 



they, must not allow a long interval to elapse between 
our meals, i.e., as frequent food and in small quantities is 
best for invalids, so it is best for us not to go long with- 
out prayer, and let them be short at first. 

" I would begin, for instance, with making a rule to 
pray in the middle of the day, some short prayer, and let 
it be one of the questions in the evening whether you 
have. And to this I would add a rule not to enter the 
bed-room (alone) without just kneeling down, if but for 
one minute ; I think you would find this a great help. In 
public prayer, it would be best to follow the prayers with 
our book. If you should gain any benefit from these 
rules, or should wish anything explained that I have not 
made clear, I hope you will not scruple to write again, as 
my time is quite at your service, if I could be of any 
service, though you will hardly think so after my having 
allowed so long a time to pass, but I hoped to have seen 
you. 

" Eelieve me to be very sincerely yours, 

"E. A. Suckling." 

11 July 20th, 1849. 

" My dear Mrs. P , 

" On the other point of leaning on ourselves. I am 
more and more convinced that it is the hardest of all 
things not to do ; pride of nature is very, very hard to 
give up. Y\ T e may pride ourselves on our religious ob- 
servances, &c, &c, and use them in such a way as 
entirely to hinder our growth in grace ; for example, in 
comparing ourselves with what we once were, we may be 
led to seZ/^gratulation, and so, our very improvements 
make us cling to self. I am but speaking generally of 
that, of the truth of which I am daily more convinced — 
viz. that our great work is to renounce self, and to pray 



94 



MEMOIR OE THE 



for that spirit by which we may be brought to the foot of 
the Cross with the deep conviction, that it is our utter 
helplessness, our misery, our lost condition which alone 
can be pleaded before God in hope of mercy. And that 
must be, not because our repentance has made us fit 
subjects, for then it would be because of our repentance, 
but that it has brought us to see the great gulf between 
us and God, and that our only hope of passing it is by 
pleading our utter inability, and at the same time asking 
for help because of the merits of our Saviour. 

" Believe me your affectionate pastor, 

"R. A. Suckling." 

"We may here add a few extracts froin letters to 
Mrs. Suckling about this time, as indicating the 
history of the same mind. Thus he used the bond 
of earthly affections as a means of drawing upward 
to that throne of God, from whence is suspended 
the golden chain of Divine Love, that binds us to 
each other with a new bond in Christ. 

" July 7, 1849. 
" I fear I cannot be with you before Monday. I much 
wish I could, but it will be all for the best. The book of 
Job is indeed very consoling, and from it we may learn 

to bear patiently our lesser trials. May you, , be 

supported and comforted in yours by Holy Scripture, 
which is indeed a refuge in every trouble, and able to 
give us that peace which the world cannot take away. 
Commit your way unto the Lord, and wait patiently 
upon Him, and He will bring to pass all that we can 
desire, and make all work for our good, however adverse 
it may seem." 



REY. E. A. STICKLING. 



95 



"Bussage. August, 1849. 
" Here I am without you. I too confidently reckoned 
on bringing you back, and the disappointment was salu- 
tary : may it work for good to us both. It will, if we 
resign our wills to God, as some little sacrifice for all 
His goodness. I told you my reasons for returning, 
although my heart yearned sadly to go to you ; and the 
result proves, I trust, my desire right, for I find Mr. 

C very much knocked up. The fact is that Monday, 

Chalford Feast, was a tremendous day with us, and you 
know one is always tired on Monday. Well, on that day 
we went, a party of seventy, to Stroud walking, fifty-six 

being our Sunday School, whom we (i.e. Mrs. P ,) 

took to see Wombwell's wild beasts, after which we re- 
turned to tea, and played cricket. This knocked us 
both up. 

"All will be for the best. I was sadly troubled at 
first, but trust am reconciled now. I hope you are. God 
is so merciful and good to us, that it is great ingratitude 
to murmur at His little trials of our faith, to see whether 
we indeed are grateful to Him. It is easy to serve Him 
when all goes well, but O how difficult when little trials 
come." 

"Bussage. August, 1849. 
" Indeed, as you say, we cannot tell when we shall 
meet, but God's will be done ! Shall we receive good 
at His hand and not evil ? Can we expect to go through 
life without a trial ? Rather should we fear not to have 

them. O , you have my earnest prayers, and those 

of many others. I will strictly attend to all you say about 
the dear children. I did indeed pray earnestly for direc- 
tion what to do before leaving London, and am so 
thankful you think it best I have returned. God is our 



96 



MEMOIR OF THE 



Father ; He cannot do wrong with us. Cast yourself 
on Him,— your care, your all ; He careth for you. In 
such times as these we feel the blessings of a Redeemer, 
One Who has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows, 
Who feels for us now" 

To a Clergyman who succeeded him at Kemerton 
he thus writes, giving some details as to the man- 
agement of his present charge. They serve to 
show how, adapting himself to the circumstances 
in which, he was placed, as his custom was, he 
tried all means which he considered might be ef- 
fective. 

"Bussage. July 30th, 1848. 

" My dear B., 

" As to the question you write on, I most will- 
ingly give you the result of my practice here. I have, 
for about two months or more, established a Sunday 
evening service, with the greatest satisfaction to myself. 
I do not think that any Church people now go to Meet- 
ing ; in their own words, ' it keeps them together.' My 
hours of service are — 10, 3, and 6. 

" I have no early Communion. I think I should prefer 
a lecture in Church on the week-day. I have one now, 
and find that a running comment on Scriptural charac- 
ters (ex tempore) is very acceptable. We can read, and 
so obtain information ; they cannot. Not that I object 
to a cottage lecture, for I think we are far too stiff. 
There is an isolated hamlet of one hundred people over 
one mile from us, where I propose establishing one soon. 
I look upon it as a mission to draw people to Church, 
and should not resort to it unless I found they would 



BEY. E. A. SUCKLING. 



97 



not come, which they do not in this case ; so I go to them. 
I feel it's the last thing that I could do to counsel you ; 
but hope that, by stating my own practice, you may 
gather my opinion, and take or reject what you please. 
It seems to me one of the most profitable things we can 
do, to compare notes together, that we may find out what 
is best. The practice of the running comment I learnt 
from a Clergyman a short time back. 

" The ' Anglican Garden of the Soul ' has, I suppose, 

fallen to the ground. The Bishop of sent his MS. 

to Mr. , saying he was too much pressed with busi- 
ness to proceed. I have backed out of it, astonished at 
my presumption in thinking I could undertake any 
portion. 

" Believe me always 

" Sincerely yours, 
"K. A. Suckling." 

In another letter to the same correspondent are 
the following striking remarks ; they have, indeed, 
taken the Editor somewhat by surprise. He knew 
that Cheist Crucified was the great subject of his 
contemplation ; it was literally, as in mind, the pic- 
ture always before him, and formed his especial gift 
to penitents and friends. But the reflections in this 
letter indicate how, in things heavenly and spiri- 
tual, his mind balanced itself by holding other por- 
tions of the faith ; and it evinces with what high 
doctrines his singular hopefulness was connected, — 
that it was, in fact, the realizing of things unseen. 
His further mention, also, of Baptism, is indicative 
of the same energetic and earnest pressing forward 
to the things which are before. 

H 



98 



MEMOIE OP THE 



" August 25, 1849, 
" I perfectly agree with every word you say, and am 

persuaded that N , in the end, will view the matter 

in the same light. I am truly sorry he has not parochial 
work, for this, I am convinced, would soon lead him to 
view the matter differently. There is so much good in 
him, so much earnestness, that theoretical notions would 
soon vanish before practical difficulties. 

" To my mind, and I may add by my experience, his 
views are the key to Romanism, — the rock upon which 
so many have suffered shipwreck. 1 If the Cross is to be 
the one point which should attract us, of what use is the 
Ascension and Session at the Right Hand of God ? Is 
not the burden of Apostolic preaching (as shown in the 
Acts) e Jesus, and the Resurrection ?' I do not remem- 
ber that they dwell at all upon, or point their hearers to, 
the Cross (solely), but tell them that He is exalted, as a 
Prince and Saviour, to give repentance. 

" I am indeed to look to the Cross, and to derive from 
it the deepest comfort and fullest assurance that He there 
bore the punishment due to me ; and the feeling I derive 
from thence is that of mournful satisfaction. But I am 
bid to look beyond, — to behold Him carrying His own 
Blood into the Holiest of all, appearing in heaven for me. 
There I have an Advocate, (not on the Cross,) but in 
heaven. There I behold Him with the eye of faith, and 
beholding, am filled with wonder, love, joy, and peace, 
which passeth understanding : there, too, it was that 
S. Stephen saw Him, and there S, Paul, throughout his 
epistle to the Hebrews, bids us behold Him, to our end- 
less comfort. 

1 The apprehensions here expressed respecting a mutual 
friend, have been unhappily fulfilled since Mr. Suckling's 

death. 



RET. R. A. SUCKLING. 



99 



" All this Romanism keeps back from us, by stopping 
us short at the Cross. The mind, indeed, that is weighed 
down by the burden of sin, looks only to the Cross ; but 
when the assurance reaches our heart that all is par- 
doned, and we accepted in the Beloved, then we behold 
Him leaving that Cross, and becoming our Advocate 
with the Father, and receive of Him that gift of the 
Spirit, whereby we may joy in Him, and do works ac- 
ceptable in His sight. 

" N- says that this would be all very well, if we 

had kept our Baptismal robe unstained ; but, if we had, 
or could, then I cannot see the need of an advocate with 
the Father. It seems to me clear, that having paid the 
penalty of our sins, He appears in heaven now for us, 
because we cannot keep ourselves, — because we are con- 
stantly falling short of that perfect holiness which God 
the Father requires of us, — that there He every moment 
wards off the wrath due for our hourly shortcomings, by 
pleading the merits of His Passion. 

" Besides, I cannot take the view of Baptism which 

N seems to do : a deposit, or something which we 

have to keep, — i. e. a gift, w T hich it must be our greatest 
aim to keep unsullied. I rather look upon our Bap- 
tismal gift as the germ of mighty privileges, — a passive 
righteousness, — and so well for infants to die in ; but 
active righteousness is required of us. We have a fight 
to fight with Satan, and our robes must get soiled ; so 
that I think it discourages a child to take this view. A 
new soldier's coat looks well, but we do not tell him his 
chief care must be to keep it unstained, but to fight, and 
overcome ; and then if, in the fight, it be grievously 
soiled, yet there is One Whose perfect righteousness 
makes up for all our stains, and Who will, because we 
have fought, hereafter clothe us in white linen, &c. The 

h 2 



100 



MEMOIB OF THE 



victory of fallen man is to be sought for, not in inno- 
cence, but in tried virtue. I know you will excuse the 
freedom with which I write." 

The following letter may be supposed to indicate 
some slight change of views, which will be hereafter 
spoken of; but it is valuable, as detailing his paro- 
chial practice of the midnight service, and also his 
own previous habit of spending that solemn time 
in private, which latter custom is altogether cha- 
racteristic of him, and cannot, surely, be too highly 
esteemed. It is not to be supposed that he here 
implies any censure, much less any judgment, on 
one who was spending the time differently, for of 
course it was not anything in itself actually sinful ; 
but in setting forth the more excellent way, he 
describes and defends this his own solemn practice, 
on account of the uncertainty of all human things, 
of which he adduces this affecting instance. 

" Bussage. Dec. 29, 1849. 

" My dear Miss H , 

" Mrs. Suckling has given me your letter, and 
I hope it may not be out of place for me to answer it, as 
far as I am able, more especially as, during those six 
years, many of the sermons you allude to must have been 
written by this unworthy hand. God, in His infinite 
mercy, grant, that what was therein not in accordance 
with His blessed "Word, may now have no place in your 
mind ; while He be pleased to bless still what was of 
truth. Those six years have been most eventful years to 
me ; and if they have, what shall I say of years before ? 



BET. B. A. SUCKLING. 



101 



for the Christmas of but twelve years back saw me on 
what seemed a bed of death in Africa, with no knowledge 
of God, and ignorant of the merits of a Saviour. Have 
I not then cause to rejoice now, and all that is within me 
to praise His holy Name ? 

" But I am departing from my subject, which refers 
only to the last half of those years I have spoken of. I 
would not wish to recall any main truth I may have 
taught you ; but yet I would own, and gladly so, that all 
my teaching at Kemerton was too theoretical — how could 
it have been otherwise, or rather, I ought to say, was it 
not natural ? The Church seemed to me (as it does still) 
our sun, by which all our times and seasons must be 
regulated; so I recognized no other beginning of the 
year than that she taught, and let that be taught still ; 
yet we see in practice the world does not> and will not 
look on it so, (and our Church has New Year's Eve) ; we 
must then be practical, and recognize it also, and act 
upon it. I would have had a midnight communion on 
Advent and Christmas Eve ; but looking at the heavy 
services of the days after, it is physically impossible. 
Therefore, in answer to the question why I have it rather 
on New Year's Eve than the Eve of Advent Sunday, I 
say, search the public-houses ; on the former midnight 
they are empty, — but search them on the latter, search 
them on Monday night, see how the world ean join night 
and day in unholy revel. Equally so among the refined 
and upper classes does the practice prevail, of drinking 
the old year out and the new year in. ! do they not 
shame us ? ' Could ye not watch with Me one hour ?' 
Some, or rather a few years back, I was staying New 
Year's Day at a gentleman's house. He and his family 
were going to sit the old year out and the new in ; it had 
been my practice to pass that time in prayer. I retired, 



102 



MEMOIR OF THE 



but he sought me out. I rejoined the party with feel- 
ings of shame, as the clock struck twelve, and he bade 
me drink the new year in ; 'my conscience smote me, and 
I wondered where we should be next year at that time. 
A few months passed, and that hand which reached me 
the wine was laid in the silent grave, cut down at a stroke ! 
Had I had the Christian fortitude boldly to confess 
Christ, and give my reasons for not joining, my con- 
science would not smite me as it now does. So, then, I 
think, while these poor people, not here, but throughout 
England, are passing this night in unholy revel, it be- 
hoves God's Church and His servants to witness against 
it, and to pray that they may be spared to know the 
things belonging to their peace. My blood runs cold to 
think how many a sinner may on that night outstep the 
bounds of God's mercy, and make that his last day of 
grace ! You may be ignorant of the extent of the prac- 
tice alluded to ; I who have witnessed it at sea, never 
can. I know that when God reckons with England, and 
the accounts of the transgressions of our navy are cast 
up, the most awful will be the spending of her Christmas 
days, because on that day more sin is not only committed, 
but permitted, than on any other. To-morrow, then, from 
the pulpit, I am proposing to call upon all who have 
God's honour at heart, and long for, and love His ap- 
pearing, to watch and to pray with me in church the 
night, as a witness to the world, and for the saving of 
our souls ; for surely the days are evil, and so the more 
need of our watching ; and sin abounds, and souls are 
perishing, whom, perhaps, our prayers might save. If 
you are curious to know my text to-morrow, it is on J ob 
i. 5, and on the old year, Deut. viii. 2, first part. I do 
not then ask you to undo old associations, nor less to 
realize what Advent is, but only to see the necessity of 



BEY. B. A. STJCKLIXO. 



103 



the care for others. Sin and Satan are our great 
antagonists, and we must follow Satan, and rescue sin- 
ners, even if we may, from the jaws of hell. Now that 
I am on this subject, I could show you we must create 
periods of watching, new ones ; for the restraint which 
in ancient times bound men to the Eves of Holy Days is 
passed : it is contrary to human nature that they can 
ever be effectually revived. It is &fact, we do not watch 
on the Eves of Holy Days ; but if I can get them to do 
so on the Eve of the New Year, am I not justified ? 
They see a cause in the one ; they feel an event which 
they do not in the other. 

" I have been very much edified by using the Paradise 
of the Soul on Devout Communion, but never having 
used it through, only portions, I should prefer looking at 
it again before giving you a decided answer on the whole j 
there are other parts of the work I have thought objec- 
tionable. I think this is all you asked ; and now that I 
have finished, let me say, I would not for a moment have 
you let go anything you have found God has blessed to 
your soul. O, how could I ? it were madness ! Ail I 
would urge is, that nothing that we do will avail us in 
the last day, which does not proceed from pure love to 
God. He is the One Object which must absorb all our 
affections, and be All in All to us. His love in Jesus to 
us is a well of consolation, which they that drink of shall 
only the more thirst for, till they arrive at that state 
here, when the body seems only a cumbrance, hindering 
the soul from flying to its eternal rest on His bosom Who 
died for us even while we were sinners, and "Who must 
be the longing and the desire of every soul here, before 
they can sit down with Him on His throne hereafter, be 
filled with all His fulness, and join the heavenly host in 
their unwearied praise throughout eternity. O, may we. 



104 



MEMOIE OF THE 



you and I, and all whom God has ever appointed me 
pastor over, meet there. And whence is this honour to 
me, that I, who once blasphemed Him, should yet be 
called to this high honour of winning souls to Him? 
Pray for me (as I do for you) that in that day I may not 
be a castaway, that no neglected sheep shall then rise up 
to witness against me that I never fed them, but that all 
may be to me in that day my joy and crown of rejoicing. 
And now farewell, with my love to all, and prayers 
for all. 

" Believe me in our Blessed Lord ever yours, 

" R. A. Suckling." 

AVhen his heart is opened in sympathy with 
affliction, it is beantiful to observe how he is again 
altogether himself. 

" Bussage. Easter Monday, 1850. 

" My dear Miss H , 

" I think I shall not come this week, unless the 
Archdeacon should seem to wish it. Would I could 
offer you words of comfort, in -the affliction which has 
come upon you in your dear mother's illness. She has 
come to a good old age, and is ripening fast, I trust, for 
the harvest. For herself I am persuaded she has long 
had such thoughts in view, and that this her illness does 
not surprise her ; but for yourselves it is a time of 
deeper trial, though equally looked for. You have 
watched her day by day weakening, with sad hearts, yet 
not without bright hopes ; for I am persuaded you have, 
with the decay of the outward man, witnessed also the 
renewal of the inner man. And what more could 
you wish ? It would have been a melancholy pleasure 
for me to have seen her once again ; but I have now no 
such hope. My prayers and those of my wife are with 



RET. E. A. SUCKLING. 



105 



her and you ; it is the one subject which engrosses our 
thoughts, and throws a sadness over our Easter Festival, 
for we do, and I trust we shall ever, cherish a lively re- 
membrance of the great kindness we have ever received 

from her and you since we first knew K Court. 

That event which we have seen in the long distance, 
seems now near at hand ; her wanderings in this wilder- 
ness are about to end, and the time of parting is sad, 
because the journey seems all unknown. But 0, not so, 
for One hath gone before, Who will never leave or for- 
sake, but will be our guide even unto death. I have often 
thought, what a sad parting must that have been of Moses 
with the children of Israel in the desert; it sanctions 
human sorrow. He had led them as a father for forty 
years, and now he gathers them together to give them 
his parting blessing. With saddened hearts must they 
have beheld him turn towards the mount, with his firm 
step and undimmed eye, there to meet his God, and die. 
They wept and mourned for him thirty days ; but what 
a blessed change it was for him we catch a glimpse of on 
Mount Tabor (transfiguration.) It was a sad parting ; 
but there is yet one parting more touching, more (as the 
world would think) deeply bereaving ; yet it is the only 
parting that has ever been, where sorrow found no place. 
When our blessed Redeemer had announced His depar- 
ture to His disciples, 1 sorrow filled their hearts but 
when that most trying hour came, — when He led them 
out as far as Bethany, and blessed them, and was parted 
as He blessed, — though they gazed up to heaven till they 
could see no more, yet they returned to Jerusalem with 
great joy. He was true to His word, that He will never 
leave nor forsake ; and so as their day their strength was. 
No bereavement w r as ever like that ; apart from Him they 
would have died of grief, — witness their agony during 



106 



MEMOIR OF THE 



His three days' sepulchre. That same power, then, my 
dear friends, which sustained Apostles, is ready to sustain 
you, if you seek it; for He has not ascended to His 
Father only, but to our Father as one with Him. 
Our griefs are His ; for He knows our sorrows, and will 
in like manner comfort you through this sorrow. May 
it be a blessed season of communion with Him in suffer- 
ings, is my earnest prayer ; for most assuredly in afflic- 
tion we feel more His Presence. It is His louder voice, 
and the touch, not only of His rod and staff, but His 
Hand, and that Hand, you know, was pierced for you ; 
and as He lays it gently on you with loving look, you 
become more one with Him. You partake thereby of 
His sufferings, and learn more of His deep love in suffer- 
ing for such as we! And He shares your sufferings; and 
then there opens out to the soul, thus one with Him in 
suffering, thoughts, fears, hopes, joys hitherto unknown, 
and we see a beauty in Him we never did before, and we 
wonder we ever shrunk back from His healing touch, 
and fear lest He should ever leave us to ourselves again. 
My heart indeed beats for you, knowing your deep 
affection for your mother ; and my unceasing prayer shall 
be, not that the sorrow be removed, but that it may be 
so sanctified to you, as to knit you more closely together 
in the mystical Body of the Redeemer, and to rouse you 
more earnestly to trim your lamps, that when the Bride- 
groom comes with the company of the redeemed, you 
may be found watching. Ever in Him most affection- 
ately yours, 

"K. A. Suckling." 

"Bussage. April 16th, 1850. 

"My dear Miss H , 

" Your sorrow is turned into joy, by the won- 



RET. R. A. SUCKLING. 



107 



derfully improved state of your dear mother's health ; 
and in this I joy with you. It is a mark of God's espe- 
cial favour and love, when He brings any so near to 
death, and raises them up again ; the more so if they are 
aged, because in the natural course of events we do not 
expect it. Their sun is well-nigh set; and while we look 
for it peacefully to glide down behind the everlasting 
mountains, shedding a peaceful light on all around, lo ! it 
stands still ! — some unseen hand has arrested it, and the 
light of another day is given. But why ? that we may 
be avenged on our spiritual enemies. * There was no day 
like that before it,' and this last day, this renewed life is 
given back, — a day much to be remembered to the Lord, 
to be His day more especially, more entirely to be con- 
secrated to His service. She has been brought to the 
edge of the valley of the shadow of death, and you into 
the vale of tears ; a respite has been granted her, — the 
dial of life has gone back a few degrees. The Lord 
Himself has given the sign, and you both are brought 
back again to the wilderness to be tried again ; and who 
can tell which of you shall now step into the waters first ? 

O, , as she stood on the borders of eternity, may she 

have seen somewhat of that goodly land beyond the 
Jordan ! may she have felt, that by no power of her own 
could she cross its foaming flood, but only by the power 
of Jesus, Whose voice can make a calm for His ran- 
somed to pass over ; Whose rod and staff alone can guide 
along that darksome way, which none but He has trod 
alone. O blessed, consoling thought, that He will never 
leave or forsake those who cling to Him, feeling their 
own weakness, and need of His righteousness to stand 
clothed in, before the eternal Father ! It is in such 
hours that the love of the Son of God comes on us with 
almost overwhelming fulness, Lord, what is man, that 



108 



MEMOIR OF THE 



Thou art mindful of him, and the son of man that Thou 
visitest him ? Truly he is a thing of nought, a * despised 
broken vessel.' But Thou didst take the Lamb from 
Thine own bosom, which Thou hadst nourished there 
from all eternity, and slay Him, for the wayfaring man 
whom Thou foundest wounded and bleeding by the road 
side. May such thoughts be sweeter now to your mother 
than ever ! Did her eyes pierce somewhat through that 
dark valley, and see aught of the King in His beauty, 
as she stood so near to that ' land which is very far off?' 
Has she brought back somewhat of the fragrance of that 
country, as she stood so near to Eshcol ? If so, your 
responsibilities are increased. Beware, lest aught you 
do or say bring her back again to things below ; and in- 
crease your prayers, that this light affliction may work 
for her a more exceeding w r eight of glory ; and that, as 
the outward man decays, (expect it not to increase long,) 
the inward man may be renewed day by day. And you 
all, my sisters in the Lord, (excuse the boldness with 
which I speak,) what did you find in this vale of tears ? 
was it only to you the place of Bochim, or were the pools 
filled with water from above? As you found earthly 
comforts drying up, did heavenly waters supply their 
place ? have you gone on from one strength to another 
nearing the heavenly Zion ? Has it left you more re- 
signed to the will of God ? wrought more in your souls 
the deep conviction of your pilgrim state here, and the 
nothingness of all we see ? Has it taught you to look 
on the grave as the home of the living, and that to be at 
home (really) with the Lord, we must put off this earthly 
tabernacle, that we may have a building of God, a 
house, not made with hands, eternal in the heavens? 
Think then this trial no strange thing, but remember the 
like afflictions are accomplished in your brethren in the 



RET. E. A. SUCKLI]S T a. 



109 



world, from the beginning, and the same Almighty Arms 
shall support. You have prayed, have desired to know 
more of the love of Christ, He has no other way of 
teaching it than that by which He learned Himself, — 
suffering ; and if we suffer with Him, we shall reign with 
Him. Love is the gift of God, and must be sought from 
above with especial prayer. It is a gift over and above 
all other gifts, but the way of giving is the same ; you 
are in it now — murmur not — shrink not back. ' Lord 
my God, do Thou Thy holy will V. See Romans v. 3 — 5. 
My kindest love, and the assurance of my poor prayers 
to your mother, and blessing to you all. Ever yours in 
our common Lord, 

"R. A. S." 

This next impressive letter is written to an 
intimate friend often referred to in these pages. 

" Bussage. May 25, 1850. 

" My dear Friend, 

" How should I tell you of the cold chill which 
came over my heart, as I read of your sad bereavement 
in the paper ! How mysterious are the ways of God, 
and past finding out ! I have been left alone untouched, 
while all His waves and storms seem passing over you ; 
though I have often thought that, perhaps ere long, 
to me those words may be spoken, — ' Can thine heart 
endure, or can thine hands be strong ?' &c, and I would 
wish to answer, ' Lord, Thou knowest all things; all 
things are possible if Thou be with us ; for then as our 
day our strength shall be/ And doubtless so you have 
found it, in this heavy trial ; He Who thus wrestles with 
you, you know to be ' Jesus, the feeble sinner's Friend,' 



110 



MEM.0IB OF THE 



and to Him you cling the more closely, in that He has 
taken away well nigh every earthly stay. Fain would I 
find words to comfort you, but I know that you look not 
to man, or to the son of man, in whom is no help, but to 
Him Who afflicts in love. His unerring hand you see 
in all, and bow in submission to His will ; for though 
you know not now, you shall know hereafter, in that 
blest place where there shall be no more sorrow or tears. 

M May I have one line from you to say how you are ? 
You know that this is your home at any time, and here, 
did you like it, you can have peace and retirement ; and 
I need not say with what real pleasure I should welcome 
you — I should say we, for most deeply Mrs. Suckling 
sympathises with you, I assure you. I fear I cannot 
offer to change duty with you, for, in addition to this 
parish, I have now the Chaplaincy of the Workhouse ; 
but I am sure the Curate (now up for Priest's orders) 
would gladly change duties with you, if any convenience. 

" Believe me with prayers for your comfort and support, 
" Your affectionate friend, 

A. Suckling." 

Two occasions may here be introduced as show- 
ing how our friend's kind words were accompanied 
with like deeds of sympathy. A Clergyman at 
Bisley had his house burnt down together with his 
library ; Mr. Suckling, after writing in his usual 
devotional manner, by which he turned every occur- 
rence to account, sent him also the following note 
with a very handsom e present of 'books, comprising 
the Catena Aurea, Bishop Beveridge's works, 
Bishop Cosin, Dean Comber, "Wheatly, a Clergy 
List, &c. The point for which the Editor notices 



BEY. E. A. SUCKLING. 



Ill 



it is not merely his unaffected way of offering them, 
but that the present he was sending must have 
contained what was to him of far greater value 
than it could have been to the person to whom it 
was sent, except as an expression of such sympathy. 
Indeed, what is more valuable to a Clergyman than 
his own books with all their associations ? 

" Bussage. Monday. 

" My dear , 

" I have been weeding my books, and for some 
time those I now send have been lying by me, for I could 
not make up my mind to ask your acceptance of them, 
which however I do now, hoping that you will take them 
as an expression of my sympathy with you in your late 
loss ; they can be nothing more, for I feel ashamed to 
own to you how little their loss will affect myself. 

" Believe me very sincerely yours, 

" R. A. Suckling." 

The friend who has favoured us with this com- 
munication, says, 

" I may add, that the only occasion on which I ever 
heard R. S. express himself with anything like anger, 
or rather warmth, for it was scarcely anger, was on this 
same occasion of the fire at my house. As it was all 
over, and we were coming away, two men stepped up, and 
asked something for their help in working the engines. 
S. turned round on them indignantly, and took an air of 
command, which I never saw in him before, and reminded 
me of his former calling. He said but few words, but 
something to the effect, that had they not too much 



112 



ME MO IE OF THE 



already, they would not have forgotten themselves so far 
as to make such a request at such a time. The men 
shrank away, abashed more by his manner and bearing, 
than by what they understood of his words." 

The other occasion was one of yet higher in- 
terest, which a letter of Mr. Suckling's, with which 
we have been kindly furnished, will again serve to 
introduce. 

" Bussage. Thursday. 

" My dear Lord , 

" I should have answered your letter sooner, but 
that I have been laid up these last few days, and was un- 
able to attend our Anniversary Service yesterday .... 
It is a noble scheme, the founding a Cathedral at Perth, 
and I trust the venerable Bishop may live to see it fairly 
commenced. I wish I could assist you as much as it de- 
serves. I send my mite, and hope it will not be unac- 
ceptable ; it can, I hope, be turned to such account as may 
be thought best, — perhaps towards Communion-plate. 

" May the time soon come when Scotch Bishops shall 
fare better than English Curates. 

" If your lordship would favour me with two or three 
more copies, I would endeavour to circulate them amongst 
my friends. 

" Trusting I may have the pleasure of seeing you, if 
not here, at the consecration of Kemerton Church, 
" I beg to remain, 

" Your Lordship's obedient servant, 
" E. A. Suckling." 

" Might I request that my name may not appear in 
any lists, &c." 



REV. R. A. SUCKLING. 



113 



The person to whom this was sent, at once saw 
the value and peculiar nature of the gift, and its 
connection with our friend's holy character. He 
says, 

" This was sent to me with an offering for Perth Cathe- 
dral of several articles of plate, having two crests upon 
them. I was assured at the time hy friends of his, that 
they probably constituted the last articles of that kind, 
or of that value, that he possessed. I recollect the deep 
impression made on my feelings at the time, and now 
quite fresh, that he had devoted himself and all his 
worldly goods fully to the service of the Church." 

It was indeed an affecting circumstance, he had 
parted with an earthly inheritance which had been 
in his family, it is said for 500 years, and this was 
like the sanctifying of this small relic to God's 
service, to which he had offered up his whole self. 



Care of the Young and the Poor. 

These letters so gentle and affectionate, and at 
the same time so holy and pastoral, to persons of a 
like station in life with himself, serve as the most 
adducible evidences of his character, yet tend to 
afford but one part of it ; there was nothing in him 
more remarkable than the extensive nature of Ins 
sympathies, nor did such his Christian charities, 
i 



114 



MEMOIR OP THE 



as we before noticed, know any distinction of rank 
or position in life ; he seemed altogether nnconscions 
of snch difference, were it not that the weaker drew 
out in every respect more strongly his assisting 
hand. "We found in one of his most natural letters 
on his first getting to Bussage that he congratulated 
himself, not on the prospect of preferment, or pre- 
sent ease, or emolument, or advantages of society, 
but on the very reverse, on the absence of such 
temptations, and on that poverty around him that 
might teach him to endure hardship. And here in 
introducing his letters, we have a correspondence 
that extended to the school-girl, the servant-maid, 
the farmer's daughter, and every grade altogether 
alike. But before coming to a few instances of 
these, it may not be unseasonable to interpose some 
remarks respecting his general pastoral position 
and character. 

sdj esn teiij bne t iol "garni dtTow griifft ono ivd £6W 
" He permitted himself." says his Curate, " like the 
Apostle, to dwell with pleasure on the Gospel being 
given to his people without charge." 

And it cannot be doubted but that there is a 
peculiar efficacy, power, and blessing in those 
pastoral labours which are like those of S. Paul, 
unpaid and without any worldly remuneration. 
Xor is this to be entirely passed over and forgotten 
in detailing the history of one so unworldly in all 
his character. " I seek not yours but you," seemed 
to be inscribed on his life and habits, and in this 
temper of mind with simplicity was his household 



BEY. B. A. STJCKLIKG. 



115 



arranged as if in sympathy with the great poverty 
around him. "I cannot spend the money to go," 
was his answer when asked to leave home, " it 
would clothe and feed many who want it." Yet so 
indifferent was he to the things of this world, that 
the trifling sum he received from the small endow- 
ment of this hamlet only served to pay the Curate 
whom he associated with him in his labours. "With 
a certain nobleness of soul to spend and be spent 
was his only desire. Not unconnected with this 
was the single eye, the impartial care for all alike, 
and in his sermons that plainness of speech, that 
earnest reality, and home application irrespective 
of any differences in rank or education, notwith- 
standing any changes in the congregations amongst 
whom he might minister. 

" He seemed to think," says his Curate, " that there 
was but one thing worth living for, and that was the 
glory of God, in the salvation of souls. These he almost 
seemed to think were identical. Very earnest was his 
expression once to me, * O ! that we could get the salva- 
tion of our people into our hearts I then we should know r 
better what to do, if that principle of love to souls was 
continually prompting us/ It was after this that he 
laboured ; it was evident from his practice how this 
animated his life." 

But, no doubt, the effect of his ministry was 
chiefly among the young, and that in ways which 
from their own nature little admit of description. 
This was the case at Kemerton, not only in con- 
i 2 



116 



MEMOIR OF THE 



stant attendance at the school, but as he himself 
details his practice to a friend, getting those rather 
more advanced in age weekly around him to own 
their faults and receive his blessing. And the 
same attention continued at Eussage when he saw 
them every week at his own house, teaching them 
writing, and reading the Bible; and no doubt 
rendering both of these means of watchful care. 

" He felt deeply," says the person last referred to, 
" the importance of sowing the good seed while the 
ground was yet soft. ' Our work/ he said, 1 is with the 
school.' He wished the school prayers to be read every 
morning by the Clergyman, and the children catechized 
by him ; nor did he in so doing confine himself to cate- 
chetical questions, but endeavoured to apply each truth 
to the heart, according as they were able to bear it. And 
accordingly for an hour used he to sit there, speaking as 
a friend and a father, kindly and gently showing them 
how, as children, they might adorn the doctrine of their 
Saviour. The factory girl, too, to him was an object of 
peculiar interest ; her wants and temptations engaged 
his sympathy and care. Once a week he met them in his 
study, and there entered into their different trials, and 
spoke to them on their daily life ; often, too, he had 
some little book which he read to them, commenting on 
it as he went on." 

This appears very fully in a Tract written by 
him but a short time before he was taken away, on 
the sudden death of a young woman, entitled, " Her 
sun has gone down while it was yet day." The 



BET. B. A. STICKLING^. 



117 



incidental proof that Tract discloses of his long and 
anxious watchfulness, is such, that it would be 
difficult to find anything to equal such an instance 
of peculiar, almost more than pastoral, more than 
parental care, such present, earnest succour in 
temptation, as to remind one of him who said, 
"Who is weak, and I am not weak? who is 
offended, and I burn not ?" Such hope too in her 
end as his very crown and rejoicing. He says, in 
a letter to a friend, " I feel very happy in the 
thought that she is taken away from the evil to 
come, and is now transplanted from being a daily 
worshipper in the court below, to the Holy of 
Holies above." 

This cannot be shown by extracts, but only by 
referring to the Tract itself; yet a few passages 
may be given from it, as indicative of this watch- 
fulness of which we speak. 

"My knowledge of her dates but five years back, to 
the time of the consecration of this church ; she became 
a constant attendant at the daily prayers, and remained so 
until her last illness. I will not conceal from you the 
deep anxiety with which I watched her course during the 
early period of that time, nor the many tears with which 
I have pleaded before the Throne of Grace in her behalf, 
because I feared that, forgetful of her Baptismal vows, 
she was following the ways of the world. Often have 
I entreated her with tears, to consider that ' the end of 
such ways is death eternal.' Often have I seemed to toil 
all night without taking anything. Many temptations 
have I experienced from Satan to cease praying for her, 



118 



MEMOIR OF THE 



and to leave her to follow her own ways ; but i be patient,' 
was the exhortation of the Apostle, 1 behold, the husband- 
man waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath 
long patience for it.' From the first, she formed one of 
the weekly class of girls that I have held in the evenings 
after service. At other times, she used to come to me, 
principally before the Holy Communion : and often 
would she sit with her face buried in her hands, in tears, 
and unable to speak. This induced me to urge her to 
write to me, which she soon after did, and I fully reaped 
the reward of my labour in having taught her to write ; 
for from her letters I learned many things with which 
she much wished to acquaint me, and found how deeply 
and seriously she thought on the things of eternity." 

Again : 

" Soon after, she wrote to me, telling me of two events 
in her life which had made a lasting impression upon her. 
One was, the death of her brother ; the other referred to 
one night when I had found her, as I thought, in ways 
of evil, and taken her to her father's grave, and there 
prayed with her at the dead of night. 

" Led by the mercy of God to review her past life, and 
bowed down by the weight of sin, she often sought me. 
She frequently wrote, urging me to pray for her. From 
all this, you will perceive the deep work of grace which 
was being carried on within ; unknown to all around her, 
save her spiritual pastor." 

In the same little Tract or Sermon, lie says : 

" When I cast my eyes around this churchyard, and 
recall the time when there was not a grave there ; when 
I look at the numbers now clotted about, O, I cannot de- 



EEY. E. A. SUCKLING-. 



119 



scribe to you the feeling of desolation that sometimes 
rises in my heart, as I think of the day when pastor and 
people will stand before their God in judgment, and I 
have to answer how I have watched over their souls !" 

To give an account of a minister with his people, 
is like lifting up the veil from the unseen, which 
can seldom be done at all, — still more rarely 
with propriety" ; but this is a case in which no one 
wdll consider it objectionable, and the writer will 
venture to adduce one more instance of this, Mr. 
Suckling's peculiar w r atch over the young, with 
which a parishioner has furnished him. She 
writes, 



" There is a poor girl here who is subject to fits, and 
sometimes they are very remarkable : though perfectly 
insensible to all around her, she repeats whole conversa- 
tions, and sometimes her most secret thoughts. She had 
one in which she spoke a great deal of Mr. Suckling. I 
was with her all the time, and can recall much that she 
said. 4 Oh, Mr. Suckling, how he does talk to us ! he 
kept me behind on Thursday (after his evening class) and 
told me to be steady, and to mind to say my prayers. 
He asked me if I did, and I told him I did, nights and 
mornings ; but I didn't always kneel down at nights, be- 
cause there are so many in the room. And he asked me 
if I said them at dinner-time too, and I told him I did. 
And I asked him to pray for me, and he told me he did, 
and I know he did ; O, l am sure he prays for me, be- 
cause he told me he would. And he said such a beautiful 
prayer with me before I went, and Mr. Suckling told me 
we ought all to love one another, and not to bear malice, 



120 



MEMOIR OF THE 



and I don't bear malice to any one ; but I am afraid 

bears me malice, but Mr. Suckling said I ought to pray 
for her, and so I do, as well as ever I can.' " 

That this his pastoral eye was general, and ap- 
plied to every object of his care, is noticed by many ; 
universal, and yet at the same time so personal, 
and if one might use the term, individualizing, 
which indeed is so much the characteristic of Evan- 
gelical love in Scripture. There is mention in the 
extract from the Tract, of his praying at midnight 
with a parishioner at her father's grave, under some 
besetting temptation. Something of the kind are 
prayers I have seen in his hand- writing, given to a 
parishioner, of such a character as were like pray- 
ing with them and by them under their peculiar 
wants. Thus a servant in his former parish still 
treasures these, having an especial reference to her- 
self ; and other such holy memorials written for 
her own case, such as might serve, if one might so 
speak, to keep her pastor's protecting eye present 
even in absence and distance. One of these is but 
a little evening memento in rhyme, in his hand- 
writing, from Bishop Cosins. 

* ' Permit not sluggish sleep 
To close your waking eye, 
Till that with judgment deep 
Your daily deeds you try. 

" He that his sins in conscience keeps 
When he to quiet goes, 
More desperate is than he that sleeps 
Amidst his mortal foes." 



EEY. It. A. SUCKLING. 



121 



To the last-mentioned person in humble life, he 
writes on leaving Kemerton, detailing trivial cir- 
cumstances respecting himself and his family that 
might be of interest, quite in the way that a parent 
would write to his own child, — mentioning by 
name many others in the parish, each with some 
kind message or advice, and these interspersed with 
affectionate words of encouragement to herself in 
the line of duty, attending the Daily Service and 
the like ; and all this in that natural and real way 
which was so peculiar to himself. 

The following is a letter of advice to the daughter 
of a farmer at Kemerton. 

"Bussage. Feb. 25th. 

" My dear , 

" I am very glad to hear from you. It certainly 
is our first duty to pray for all in our family ; and next, if 
we see anything amiss in them, to speak to them. If 
they are younger, we may do so with great freedom ; if 
they are older, then we should do so, not so much in the 
way of rebuke, as of entreaty. We might watch for an 
opportunity when they seemed more willing to listen to 
us, and then introduce the subject, not (as I have said) 
in the way of rebuke, but of entreaty. Ask their per- 
mission to tell something which has pained us much; 
and thus, to lay it all before them. What we must 
beware of most, is seeming to them to take upon ourselves 
the character of a teacher, or of being much better than 
themselves. If they think this, they will not listen ; but 
if we can succeed in making them think that it is out of 
pure love to them that we speak, then we shall not fail 
to do some good, though we may not see its immediate 



122 



MEMOIR OF THE 



fruits. If this does not appear clear to you, pray write 
and say so. Do not fail to write when you wish, as it 
gives me great pleasure to hear from you. I remember 
you daily in my prayers, and pray that you may grow in 
grace. I am sure that I need not ask of you the same. 
My health is very good now. God bless you, my dear 
child. 

" Your affectionate friend, 

"R. A. Suckling." 
" My kind remembrances to your father." 

-9'iedj {-niiH-97oI 37T 3-iorn* od) ,9yo1 ?.iH zu eirodz aoO 
The next is to a Kemerton school-girl, A. B. 

m>d t 9vo! aiH 39.8 sir li ^isdl ,0 baA ' .970I ziK lo 910m 
" Bussage. Feb. 8th, 1851. 

" My dear child, 

" For so I cannot but call you, though you are 
now grown up ; — with great pleasure I received your note, 
because it shows me you are persevering in the narrow 
path. You say truly, it is difficult to know whether we 
are profiting by our privileges. We never know how 
great they are till we are laid up by sickness. Yet, as 
they are set before you, use them as a means of sanctifica- 
tion and growth in grace. Dwell on Jesus' love in dying 
for you. Measure yourself by this, and you will see 
whether you profit by frequent communion or not. 

" Do you, in reading your Bible, or in meditating, 
find greater pleasure in dwelling on His sufferings and 
Passion ? — this is the test. What a beautiful chapter it 
is for Sunday evening ! God hath made Him to be sin 
for us, Who knew no sin ; truly must we learn to praise 
Him for that, here on earth, before we can enjoy His 
Presence in heaven with angels, learning more and more 
the wonders of redeeming love. I am glad you see so 
much of A. P ; I think she is ripening for glory. 



RET. R. A. STICKLING. 



123 



Give my love to her, and tell her to bring forth fruit in 
old age. (Ps. xcii. 14.) Sit at her feet, and learn from 
her, and think how soon she may change a poor cottage, 
in a poor world, for one of the many mansions above ; or 
it may be you will be there first. Persevere in prayer ; 
be lifting up your heart to God at all times ; and re- 
collect, that the gift of loving God springs not out of us, 
but is shed abroad in our hearts, poured down from high 
on us ; and if you would love more, pray God to reveal 
more of His love to you. (1 S. John iv. 19.) The more 
God shows us His love, the more we love Him; there- 
fore, if you would love Him more, pray Him to reveal 
more of His love. And O, then, if we see His love, how 
does not the heart burn with love in return ! how does 
it not dwell on all Jesus hath done and suffered for us 
sinners, vile sinners ! The more we learn and know our 
own vileness in His sight, the more we adore that love 
by which God gave His Sox to die for us, not as 
righteous, but because we are sinners. (Rom. iv. 5 ; v. 8.) 

" You ask about the little girl ; she is still alive, and 
will be pleased to hear you recollect her. I lately buried 
a poor boy, 15 years old, from thence. His death was 
very peaceful ; just before he died, he raised himself in 
bed, and threw his arms round my neck, and kissed me. 
Poor boy ! I hope he is now in glory ! I have been 
confined to the room this week by influenza, but am 
better now. I have been very much over-worked at the 
workhouse lately : just about Christmas there were ten 
deaths in sixteen days ! 

" We had a service at midnight on New Year's Eve, 
with Holy Communion ; it was very solemn. I preached 
from Isa. xxi. 11,12, and the service was not over till nearly 

two in the morning. You will miss the Miss very 

much in , I fear. I trust your father and mother, 



124 



MEMOIR OF THE 



sister and brother, are quite well. Remember me to 
them, and say, Time is short, eternity is long, and we 
must be living for that ; for all our days are required to 
work out our salvation : it will not do to put it off to a 
dying hour, or a sick bed ! God is not mocked ! Re- 
member me to all who inquire after me, and tell them I 
hope they all strive to die to sin, and to live to Jesus, 
Who died for them. 

" Pray for me, dear child, that God may bless me, and 
make me a means of turning many to righteousness. I 
send you a little book. 

" Ever yours in our Lord, 

" R. A. Suckling." 

The four following have a peculiar interest, being 
addressed to the same Sunday school-girl at Bus- 
sage, spoken of in the Tract above, E. M. 

"April Sth s 1851. 

" My dear , 

" You certainly did give me a good deal of pain 
on Monday, seeing you behave so ; but when you said 
you were sorry, I forgot it. Are you striving in prayer ? 
for unless you are, Satan will get the better of you. 
When you are very weak, you find it hard work to get up 
a hill : well, the road to heaven is a hill, and you are 
weak, and if you are not always praying for strength and 
help, you must fall. pray be in earnest ! be not a half 
Christian, or you will perish after all ; and what a dread- 
ful thing will that be ! O, I pray God you may rouse 
yourself, and watch and pray in earnest ! Remember it 
is a daily work, and you must bear your cross daily, not 
shrink from it. Every day you are growing either better 



EEV. E. A. SUCKLING. 



125 



or worse : do not deceive yourself by thinking any time 
you may turn to God. He is calling you now, by 
making you feel sorry for your sins. If you try to drive 
away this sorrow, or let the world put it out of your 
mind, you may never, never feel sorry again! But I 
hope better of you ; I hope you feel God's great love, in 
giving His Son to die for sinners. Ever keep before 
your mind, Jesus died for me ; Jesus suffered for me ; 
He suffered agony for me ; shall I then crucify Him 
afresh by sinning ? God forbid ! Be earnest, be frequent, 
be fervent in prayer, at all times, and in all places, or 
you will perish ! You must fight your way to heaven, — 
fight against your own evil inclinations, the temptations 
of Satan, the laughter of companions ; but fear not, 
Jesus is with you ; ask Him for help. If He be with 
you, who can be against you ? 

" Your affectionate pastor, 

"R. A. Suckling. 

" Be earnest in prayer — S. Matt. vi. 6 ; vii. 7 ; S. Luke 
xviii. 1—8 ; Rom. xii. 12 ; Ephes. vi.10— 18." 

To the same. 

" Bussage. May 9th. 

" My poor girl, 

" Your letter gives me great pleasure. I do in- 
deed pray for you, that God may forgive you, and bless 
you. I have long forgotten all the trouble you have 
given me, because I am so pleased and thankful to see 
you go on steadily. Pray God to watch over you, and 
bless you more and more. Keep steady to the Sunday 
School, read your Bible, pray daily, and always be lifting 
up your heart to God. Keep out of the way of all who 



126 



MEMOIR OF THE 



would tempt you to do what is wrong ; stop anything 
that is wrong or improper in the beginning. If you 
doubt whether anything is wrong, think whether you 
would like your mother or me to know it, and if not, it 
is wrong. 

" Strive to do well, and I will always be, as I am 
" Your friend and affectionate Pastor, 

" R. A. Suckling." 

To the same. 

" Clifton. June 20th, 1851. 

" My dear , 

" Life is made up of trials and temptations ; and 
if you only look to these, you will faint. But think of 
the end that must come soon to all of us. It is but a little 
time, and we shall be in our graves j 1 think of this when 
you are tempted to give up. If Satan was not afraid of 
losing you, he would not tempt you so ; and he never can 
get advantage over you, unless you give up praying. So 
be frequent in prayer ; rise early to pray ; pray before 
going to school ; say some prayer when the clock strikes ; 
pray at dinner-time; examine yourself at evening; go 
early to Church, and think over what you have done in 
the day ; think of God the last thing at night, and pray 
that you may do so the first thing in the morning ; give 
yourself wholly to God ; strive to enter in at the strait 
gate ; confess your sins to God with tears ; ask Jesus to 
give you repentance (Acts v. 31) ; think of God's great 
love in giving His Son to die for you, as a sinner ; pray 
God to shed abroad His love in your heart, by the Holy 
Spirit ; be frequent at Church, and at Holy Communion : 

1 They were both buried in less than five months after this 
letter. 



RET. R. A. SUCKLING. 



127 



go there as a beggar asking mercy ; take up your cross, 
and deny yourself daily j pray God to write His law in 
your heart; pray and faint not. (S. Luke xviii. 1 — 8.) 
In time He will answer you, as He did the woman. (S. 
Mark vii. 24—30.) Read your Bible, if only one or two 
verses every day, and pray over it ; but rise early, and 
give the morning to God, if you would grow in grace. 
Learn the 63rd Psalm in the Bible. I hope I am getting 
stronger, and hope, if I return again, it will be to serve 
God better than I have done. I pray God to give you 
grace to persevere unto the end. Go on in prayer, and 
you will find peace and joy in God. 

" Your unworthy Pastor, 

" R. A. Suckling." 

io Amdi 3uu .imsa ilrw uo-{ ^sedi oi jfooFvTrro sjoy n 

To the same. 

\o biBilB Jon gfiw nctfiS VL .qu 9vr» o.t h'rtqcnel sub itov 
" Clifton. Festival of S. John the Baptist. 

"My poor girl, 

" You seem very much tried by Satan, and I do 

indeed pray God to give you grace to resist him, and 

persevere to the end. It is your hour of trial, and you 

must be frequent in prayer, see Ephesians vi. 10 — 17, it 

is your evil day : when temptation comes on you, go to 

your room, or somewhere in secret; and pray, wrestle 

with God in prayer, Genesis xxxii. 24 — 30, and God will 

bless you. Every prayer you make, God hears, and He is 

watching for your return, like the father of the Prodigal 

Son. I hope, please God, to return home on Saturday, 

to leave again on Monday ; try by then, if you can, to 

write on paper what your temptations are, and to open 

your grief : it will greatly ease your mind. If I can, I 

will see you before I leave ; but I should wish you very 

much to write down on paper what you want to say, as I 



128 



MEMOIR OF THE 



shall not be able to bear much talking. Pray without 
ceasing. 

" Your affectionate Pastor, 

" R. A. Suckling. 

" Do not be discouraged ; it is no sin being tempted, 
but a proof you are in earnest : God's grace is sufficient 
for you." 

]S"ot long after the above was written, the person 
addressed and so tenderly watched over, is thus 
spoken of to Mrs. Suckling. The passage not only 
serves as a sequel to the foregoing history, but is of 
itself well worth transcribing. Mention has some- 
times been made in this Memoir of that remarkable 
love which he seemed to have for the members of 
his flock and objects of his pastoral care, like that 
of near relatives or attached friends to each other ; 
the following extract affords us a sweet and natural 
expression of this kind. 

" Bussage. 
" Sunday Evening, July 2!th, 1851. 
" I cannot tell you how much I miss you, in this heavy 
trial ; it seems so lonely, just as if death was in the house, 
and my mind dwells and recurs so constantly to poor 
Elizabeth, that I get quite low and downcast ; and yet I 
know I have no need to be so. She must be in heaven, 
removed from the evil to come : her weary strife must be 
over. Her beautiful letters (for so they are) comfort me 
very much. But I should have liked her to have been 
sensible or able to speak ; yet, on the other hand, God 



BEY. E. A. STICKLING. 



129 



had doubtless some wise end in view in not allowing her 
full use of her faculties. She was the better able to 
meditate on Him ; her affection to me might have dis- 
tracted or drawn off her attention. She was wonder- 
fully patient, never uttering one word of murmuring. 
The effect on the parish is wonderful, like a stunning 
blow. Last night and to-day people standing about in 
knots : every one I have met have spoken of her death 
with tears, men and women. This morning in church, 
during service, many were crying. She has grown up 
among them as one with them. The Sunday School, 
especially her class, could do nothing for crying. O that 
this may not pass away, but be blest and abiding ! 

" Her death, to me, is unlike the death of any one else. 
She is a child in the faith, whom God in His mercy has 
allowed me to win to Him ; and being the first who has 
died, I cannot express how keen my feelings are, or how 
lonely I feel." 

The same person's death is alluded to in the two 
following : 

To a Sunday school-girl at service, D. W. 

"August 24th, 1851. 

" My dear child, 

* * # # * # * 

" I am very glad you think so much, and I pray God 
to give you grace to persevere to the end ; it is not long 
before we shall have to appear before the judgment-seat 
of Christ! then all will be over. Think how happy 
E. M. now is ! no more toiling, no more hard work, no 
more labouring for food, no more tears, sorrow, or death, 
but praising God for ever and ever ! When tempted, 



130 



MEMOIR OP THE 



think of her, how she endured ; but above all, look to 
our Sayiour, Who is able to succour them that are 
tempted. Think of His love to us, in watching daily and 
hourly over us, and dying for us. His Blood is able to 
cleanse us from all sin. I cannot write more now ; may 
God bless and be with you. 

" Yours in our blessed Lord, 

"R. A. Suckling." 

To the Kemerton school- girl, A. B. 

" Bussage. September 2±th, 1851. 

" My dear child, 

" Your letter gives me real pleasure. I fear you 
have been expecting me to answer the former one ; but 
my health is still very poorly, so that I am not able to do 
much. We have indeed cause for thankfulness, in that 
God continues to shower blessings on us, who so little 
deserve them ; and it is, as you say, a great encourage- 
ment for those who, week after week, join in the prayer of 
the Litany. We have had very much sickness since you 

left us, and three people have died. E, , a sister of 

E. M., (who died,) has been very ill ever since she was 
taken at the funeral ; I forget — you were not there. She 
fainted at the grave ,• so did three school-girls ; one has 
been subject to fits ever since. I am grieved to hear that 

the Cross over I 's grave has been broken. I like 

your remarks on the flowers very much ; the snowdrop 
does indeed teach us a lesson of perseverance, bearing up 
under storms, and blossoming in the roughest weather : 
may you, dear child, continue, like it, to grow in all purity 
of life, amid whatever trials may beat upon you. But you 
may at the same time yield the sweetness of the violet, 
remembering how near it grows to the ground, but yet 



REV. R. A. SUCKLING. 



131 



giving forth its scent to all around; that is, may you 
bring forth all the fruits of the Spirit with all humility of 
mind. My dear child, humility is the hardest thing for 
us to learn ; pride is the last thing we part with, and it is 
difficult for us always to take the lowest place, and to 
love others being praised instead of us. We must ever 
be on the watch against such thoughts, and check them 
in the beginning; it is very painful to do so, but if we 
do, they will die by little and little. That feeling of pain 
we feel in checking them is their dying ; it will get less 
and less each time. The praise of God is what we must 
covet above all things. — The thought of the little progress 
we make in our journeying homewards, will always act 
as a check to our feelings of pride ; if we call it up, it will 
humble us. I am glad to hear your grandmother is 
better ; it is a great comfort to you that your brother is a 

communicant. Perhaps is left to be gathered in by 

your prayers. Remember me to A. P. Write when- 
ever you like. 

" Believe me, yours ever in our blessed Lord, 
"R. A. Suckling," 



These letters are full of many a striking lesson 
and beautiful thought, like that of the snowdrop and 
violet in the last ; but are here given as the most 
available means of showing a singular pastoral 
watchfulness and sympathy. The actions of daily 
life, which, would evince the same, have passed 
away into a more imperishable record which is 
above, where they await the great harvest. While 
he has gone hence, " to come again with joy, and 
k 2 



132 



MEMOIR OF THE 



bring his sheaves with him," one would be glad 
could we glean some little that has dropped on the 
same field below ; and we may be excused for re- 
cording a few detached sayings respecting him. 

A Clergyman, mentioning his influence in his 
parish, says, nothing impressed people so much, as 
to know that Mr. Suckling could not sleep at night 
on account of their faults, which he took so to heart. 
This grief for very love's sake reminds one of the 
sorrow of good angels and saints who see the face 
of Cheist, and there learn what love is. And 
wonderful is the return even in this bad world, 
where such love exists. 

And here it is very pleasant to gather sayings 
and expressive incidents which speak the judgment 
of the poor. While the clergy and many others, on 
first hearing of his sudden death, were expressing 
how much more fit he was than the rest of us for 
his great change, nothing they said appeared more 
striking than this. A young woman who had been 
in Mr. Suckling's household, on mentioning his 
death to the clergyman of her former parish, on his 
making some observation, exclaimed, " Oh, sir, if 
he is not in heaven, who ever can be !" 

" I don't know what it was," said a parishioner, 
speaking of him since he has been taken from us, 
" but there was something about him that even the 
very sight of him made one better. I am sure some 
days, when I have been going across the Common, 
and only seen him in the distance, it seemed to 
make me think more, and be more careful all the 



EEV. B. A. SUCKLING. 



133 



day after." The same man said, " I always went 
to him in my troubles, and always came away hap- 
pier ; for if he could not help me to get out of them, 
he always showed me how r to turn them to good." 

"But I think no one ever preached like him," 
said another, " he seemed so in earnest ; he looked 
as if he thought of nothing but our soul's good." 

What Mr. Suckling liked, or what he did not 
approve of, is still held as something of sacred obli- 
gation. " On my making some arrangement since 
his death, about the school- children," says a lady 
residing in the place, " the governess said, with 
tears in her eyes, that Mr. Suckling had decided 
differently." 

Such influence was indeed that of love ; but it 
could not, in such a case, but open the heart to 
holiness of life, for which alone that influence was 
exercised. Better than any worldly relief is it to 
lead the heart to lean on the great Father of all. 
A woman had her little boy killed at a mill ; she 
was asked if she had seen Mr. Suckling. " O, yes," 
she replied, " I sent for him at once ; I felt as if I 
knew not how to bear it till he came." 

Thus did every one in the parish feel that he was, 
as it were, their property ; at all hours they could 
go to him, sure of ready sympathy and counsel in 
affliction. "I am sure," said another, " he saved 
me from going out of my senses." She had a bad 
husband and sorrowful home. 

A respectable carpenter received with tears a 
trifle that had belonged to Mr. Suckling. He said 



134 



MEMOIK OF THE 



he had so longed for some little thing, if it was 
only part of an old book, that he might keep for his 
sake. He had oftentimes wanted to ask for some 
trifling memorial, but could not venture to do so. 



In some persons life itself is, as it were, more 
than life, on account of strong energy of character, 
whether it be for good or evil ; and proportionate is 
the void and stillness felt when that life is suddenly 
arrested. And if that life itself — if we may venture 
to say it — is love, having in it something more than 
even domestic or human affection, being divine love, 
and from the fountain of love itself; this may 
account for that impression of tender sorrow which 
seems to dwell on every house in the place, since 
he has been removed, who made the well-being of 
every one so peculiarly his own. The incidents 
one hears of this expressed in word or deed, are 
more like those of children suddenly bereaved of a 
parent, than of any more distant connection. 

Instances of this sort would only be needed, as 
indications of the working upon others of that 
character which we wish to describe before it has 
for ever gone from us ; but they all belong to Him 
"Whose eye seeth in secret, and the knowledge of 
which things will be ■ one of the wonders of the 
Great Day, when the mystery of that expression 
can alone be understood, which must be noAV as 



KEY. E. A. SUCKLING. 



135 



gracious words on which we dwell, but cannot 
adequately comprehend, "Inasmuch as ye have 
done it unto one of the least of these My brethren, 
ye have done it unto Me." 

In the present age, when there is a tendency to 
think of doing everything by system, and of operat- 
ing on large bodies of people, it is peculiarly sweet 
and interesting to dwell on one whose care was so 
much, as divine love ever must be, with individuals. 
And, again, it will strike the reader, and the worldly 
man will notice it not without something of con- 
tempt, — that the account of our friend's career is 
so much among women and children, to say nothing 
of the sick and afflicted, the illiterate and the poor. 
The Christian needs only to be reminded how much 
this w r as the case with the only instance we have 
had on earth of true Greatness, Power, and "Wis- 
dom; and especially with regard to the former — 
women and children. 

It may be noticed that the place and population 
where Mr. Suckling was is peculiar : it has many 
things that tend to throw the poor and the Clergy 
on each other more than is usual — the absence of 
worldly society, the great poverty, the influence of 
nature itself among secluded habitations, lodged in 
wild and beautiful retirements. Dwelling in de- 
tached hamlets, on the side of sloping hills and 
wooded ravines, amidst the expansive liberty of 
extensive commons or downs contiguous, they are 
free from many of the evils of manufacturing towns. 
But in these spots, before the existing generation, 



136 



MEMOIR OF THE 



the voice of the Church had never been heard at 
all, whatever religious knowledge they had being 
supplied by various forms of dissent. Moreover, they 
are places where the sight of a superior in refine- 
ment or education had scarcely been known : yet 
the poor singularly inoffensive, and simple-minded, 
submissive under oppression, and now long since 
under the pressure of very severe poverty, trained 
in the school of affliction, which is ever readv to 
become the school of Christ. It was among these 
that the lot was cast of one who in taste and refine- 
ment was, as in birth, on terms of equality with the 
highest, but had cast behind him all such things 
that he might minister to the lowest, and become a 
learner in that school of wisdom. And as if poverty 
were not enough to minister unto of itself, who 
sought out sickness also, — sought it with all the 
eagerness of the worldly man rising early, and living 
laborious days for profit or praise ; and to poverty 
and sickness he had now added sicknesses of soul 
also in their most fearful forms, consorted with in- 
famy, and the saddest relics of corrupted and cor- 
rupting humanity. And to this now, as one who 
had found out more amply that for which his soul 
longed, had girded himself anew with fresh and un- 
tiring zeal, as to a new r field opening before him in 
his Master's service, — when he heard that Master's 
gracious call and summons to himself, and arose 
and departed out of our sight, — 



" Atque opere in medio defixa relinquit aratra." 



BEY. B, A. SUCKLING. 



137 



Beligiotjs Opinions. 1850. 

Something is said of a change of principles at 
this time. It was rather indeed some slight alien- 
ation in feelings and sympathies for a season. 
When at Mndiford in the illness that made it 
necessary for him to leave Kemerton, he was much 
disturbed at the secessions which then had been 
taking place to the Church of Kome, and simply 
waited, praying that God would guide him. The 
dangers to which such a mind would have been 
liable from these circumstances were in him merci- 
fully counteracted by his spirit of active charity, of 
rising up and doing his duty with all love as unto 
GrOD — he waited in active service, not by withdraw- 
ing into the inner mind of feeling, nor ever at any 
time was shaken from his steadfastness. So was it 
now when tempted from an opposite quarter. To the 
writer, indeed, even this his temporary appearance 
of change is not without interest ; like the trem- 
bling of the needle whose quivering, palpitating os- 
cillations arise from the force of the attractive power 
with which it is moved, and which left alone will 
find its rest. Stirred with the vibrating of the 
world without, it turns to the one great power 
which draws it, and trembles in seeking, and is 
unquiet till there it rests ; while other metals con- 
tinue all the while stationary, because they feel not 
such attraction. 



138 



MEMOIR OF THE 



Something there may have been in constitutional 
temperament or early professional career, there is 
no irregularity mentioned in principle or practice, 
but even if there had been, our great Admiral was 
more than excused, who achieved a signal victory 
in defiance of order and obedience. Something must 
be said of the love of Christ constraining, and a 
burning desire to save souls, which was confessedly 
at all times his great motive. The reasons given 
by him for the service on New Year's Eve, rather 
than that of Advent, will explain the state of his 
mind ; " I once thought," he says, " that our people 
must be brought to the Church, now I think the 
Church must come to them." Something is to be 
attributed to the largeness of his charity in a desire 
to amalgamate with persons differing from him in 
opinion, feeling that he ought to do so, especially 
with the Clergy, fj They must surely," he said, 
" find some points of agreement, and if they are not 
to be in unity, how are the laity to be so ?" This 
had the effect of apparently bringing down his own 
opinions, " becoming all things to all men that he 
might gain the more." Something must be said 
alas ! of ourselves who might seem to repulse or 
hold back from so tender and loving a spirit ; cold to 
his zeal, formal to his earnest reality, reserved to his 
overflowing sympathies, vain and worldly to his sim- 
plicity of life, with distance and distrust that shrunk 
apart from his open-hearted, open-handed affections. 
Tea, rather would I take to ourselves all the blame 
than allow it to attach to one such as he was. " He 



REV. E. A. SUCKLING. 



139 



that dwelleth in love, dwelleth in G-od, and G-od in 
him," nor could such a one while he continued what 
he was, wander far from the old paths, to which 
undoubtedly he at last returned. And it is cer- 
tainly remarkable as a fact, that those who knew 
him best, and were best capable of judging, are 
most assured that such change was but slight, nay, 
in fact was almost none at all. ~No one more fit to 
speak than one of his oldest friends, who writes : — 

" I could say much about what many deemed to be a 
vacillation in his belief two or three years ago — there 
was no real variation." 

The same is maintained by another Clergyman 
who on those points corresponded with him through- 
out. He never let go, even for a time, the higher 
principles and practices of the faith, the daily service, 
frequent Communion, and those great mysteries of 
Catholic doctrine which he realized in heart and 
life far more than others. 

We have great evidence of this in his sermons, 
they have a remarkable unity of character through- 
out, not only from that earnestness and tenderness 
so peculiar to him, but also from the doctrines with 
which they are connected. From first to last the 
Eucharist, and the weekly celebration of it in desire 
and intention, even when not in fact, was the centre 
of his Parochial system. And the Incarnation 
seemed at all times to absorb his very being : rest 
on God, the one thing he longed for. "Whether 
composed by himself, or from whatever sources 



140 



MEMOIR OF THE 



derived — still identified with him by appropriate 
selection and remodelled to his purpose — they seem 
to express his character and the gradual phases it 
underwent ; which will be seen to consist not in 
any change of principles, nor in any wavering re- 
specting the great objects of faith, but, at most, in 
somewhat altered appliances of the same. Their 
respective dates may denote such accommodation, 
yet growth and expansion rather than change. The 
change seems to be that of great maturing and 
softening of spirit. The very circumstance of same- 
ness and reality may sometimes give the appearance 
of change and diversity, from the same love accom- 
modating itself to altered circumstances, and that 
for very love's sake, such as the low tone of doc- 
trine in his neighbourhood. And, again, any such 
change in feeling and action, where there was no 
change of principle, would appear the more strongly 
from the very reality and transparency of his cha- 
racter, the strength and fervency of his feelings 
would make any temporary bias or tendency appear 
greater than they would in another. Eor very 
love's sake he w r ould not have shrunk from that 
bitter cup, — " I am become a stranger unto my 
brethren, even an alien unto my mother's children, 
for the zeal of Thine house hath eaten me." One, 
himself the truest of Churchmen, who visited Mr. 
Suckling at this time, says of him, 

" Formed as he was for a moving and missionary sphere, 
yet he appeared to indentify himself with our Parochial 



EEV. It. A. STICKLING. 



141 



System. I used to think Bussage exhibited, in a rare 
degree, what every parish should exhibit— a kingdom 
militant indeed, but still a kingdom of heaven on earth." 

The apparent change of his views for a time was 
from the same earnest longing for the practical 
and devotional in religion ; on details and all inter- 
esting matters of conduct in improving his own 
heart and winning others he was absorbed ; and 
this led him for a time not to see the value and 
importance of principles, and thence to something 
of distaste when they crossed his earnest career. 
The acknowledgment of general principles is the 
part of literary minds, while others through experi- 
ence and practice come at length to realize those 
principles, and are more slow at first to see their 
importance ; such persons are therefore, of course, 
in some danger for a time while dogmatic theology 
is at stake, while they are, it may be, more engaged 
in awakening the heart and feeling. Believing 
nothing but what he realized, he thought it enough 
to realize the same in himself, and earnestly bent 
on this for the time, he seemed to forget the ne- 
cessity of contending for "the faith once delivered." 
This will account for his taking no part in the 
Gorham case. Yet there was no real cause for 
apprehension for one so earnest and practical being 
long carried away or weakened. And the occasion 
which led him to retrace his steps was partly the 
agitation against the Papal Aggression, which he 
looked upon as " a war against the Cross of 



142 



MEMOIR OF THE 



Christ," as his words were, from the combination 
of infidel and profligate livers with religions par- 
tizans against the Chnrch: and this feeling was 
confirmed by finding the opposition occasioned by 
his efforts for the Penitentiary ; having in himself 
a single eye to the salvation of lost sonls, and the 
love of his Redeemer, he could not understand 
how any should allow party feeling to render them 
lukewarm, much less to mar and prejudice so holy 
a work. He then saw that nothing was to be 
sacrificed to gain those who had not the same pure 
and disinterested view as himself. His sympathies 
again flowed back on his own heart, and but served 
the more to unite that with the " Man of Sorrows 
that thus sanctified and renewed, they might flow 
forth afresh and light up his countenance. Prom 
the slight indications which his letters afford, it is 
observable how, after he had the Penitentiary in 
view, his heart appeared again strengthened and 
manned, and his views clearer; such drawing out 
of the heart into action is the very medicine for 
some minds, and labours of compassion refreshment 
to them ; thus to work and to pray seemed to bring 
the goal more fully before his mind, and to quicken 
his aspirations after it. 

The wisest of Divines have said that they gained 
more knowledge from their prayers than from their 
studies. And Mr. Suckling's friends speak of an 
almost intuitive perception which he had to a very 
remarkable degree in the things of God, which 
more than compensated for the want of more sys- 



EEY. E. A. STICKLING. 143 

tematic theological training and study ; but this 
of course was rather with respect to the inner life, 
and the care and means of sustaining it. But 
dangers in the external condition of the Church 
and the oppressions of the State under the heavy 
judgment of God he could not endure to realize. 
He almost seemed to say of such holy anxieties, as 
was said of worldly cares, " Thou art troubled 
about many things, but one thing is needful," that 
one thing, the spiritual life, devout contemplation 
nursed by active charities, this he was so taken up 
with, that he could not bear to look beyond. He 
delighted to dwell on the Church invisible rather 
than the visible. He did not like (at this time) one 
describing in a Sermon our Church as in chains ; 
and in allusion to a similar subject in his last letter 
to his friend, he says, " I could not but fear that I 
detected in your mind when here a worm secretly 
at work, undermining hope." But he never un- 
dervalued the Sacraments ; he never lost sight of 
the analogy of the faith # whole and undented." 
He says himself about this time : 

" It behoves us rightly to divide the Truth, to set it 
forth in all its features, to view it in all its bearings, and 
from every side : for every doctrine neglected has a fearful 
avenging power, and will reassert itself, yea, and does." 

But to appeal to the opinions of others who had 
opportunities for forming a judgment on his cha- 
racter in this respect : 



144 



MEMOIR OP THE 



"The Blessed Sfirit," says one associate of his 
labours, " seems to have raised the veil for him from 
many a holy mystery, and to have given to his spirit of 
devotion almost an intuition in Divine things." 

And another Clergyman writes : 

rl You must have noticed in him an unusual reality. I 
do not think any conviction was ever idle or unfruitful in 
him. I have never known a man so walk in the light he 
had, and to this I always attributed his great advance- 
ment in the spiritual life. I have always been amazed at 
his ready intuition in matters of divine truth. Circum- 
stances kept him from deep and continuous study, and 
yet he has surprised me often by the clearness with which 
he saw, and the precision with which he stated many 
doctrines not ordinarily held. For instance, the whole 
doctrine of the Holy Eucharist. It was wonderful how 
real it was to him. I remember well much conversation 
with him on this, in connexion with that portion of Dr. 
Pusey's letter to the Bishop of London, which relates to 
it. He read again and again that statement during the 
last days of his life. And this insight was very remark- 
able in regard to the whole doctrine of the Incarnation, 
the Intermediate State, the Communion of Saints, and 
the like : on these latter points he spoke as describing 
something he saw. 

" He had realized and was striving to locate that class 
of truths which make the prayers of the Paradise of the 
Christian Soul so valuable ; he seemed to feel that high 
Churchmen did not realize them. In the Paradise and 
in Dr. Pusey's letter, he found expressed all that he 
wanted. The parts of the former on Repentance, on the 
Holy Eucharist, on the Passion, were wonderfully dear 



EET. K. A. SUCKLING. 



145 



to him, he entered into them with truest feeling of their 
meaning." 

To this it is hut right to add that the Prayers of 
Bishop Andrewes and of Bishop Wilson appear to 
have been always his companions ; long and con- 
tinuous passages from both of these are found in 
his prayers and sermons, made his own. And this 
testimony of his friend will, I think, be found fully 
confirmed by his Sermons themselves, the senti- 
ments of which, from whatever sources derived, are 
made to express himself, by characteristic touches 
throughout. Although it would be difficult to 
find Sermons more high and heavenly-minded in 
tone, yet their power consists in those great doc- 
trines which pervade them, being so singularly 
realized; they are remarkable instances in our 
own day of that faith which is " the substance 
of things hoped for, the evidence of things not 
seen." The doctrines seem to amalgamate with 
the character of the speaker. They are so im- 
pressive because the exalted standard there set 
forth, was that which the preacher made his own 
and acted up to ; they sound at times almost Apos- 
tolic in power, on account of this genuineness, such 
living expression of character; and the more 
striking now since death has set his seal upon that 
character, and he has entered into that rest, for 
which throughout those discourses he seems so fer- 
vently to long. 



L 



146 



MEMOIR OF THE 



But from this defence of our beloved friend, in 

some degree painful, as all such discussions must 

be, it is sweet and refreshing to turn to his own 

gentle letters. And if it be said that we want 

something more substantial than soft words and 

beautiful sentiments, — well, here you have one 

whose practice outstripped his words, — whose life 

was sacrificed and burnt up before his time, by 

active energy, the sole object of that energy being 

the saving of souls and God's glory, — one whose 

whole character was that of love, such as lived in 

the Unseen. Every one who knew him, would say 

of him, that whatever diversity there may have been, 

it arose in him from the love of Chbist and of 

Christians. It was his own beautiful expression, 

that it is to Him emphatically Whom we have 

"pierced" that we are to "look," yea, even unto 

that bleeding Heart of Love itself, which for our 

sins was opened by the spear ; there no doubt, did 

he seek for refuge and " a place to hide in," from 

the troubles of life, and "the strife of tongues." 

W v^jr' "-temoo 'ban ..tms& tenia** idvSL .Jn*d edi 
To Miss . 

"Bussage. Jan. 30, 1850. 

" My dear , 

" My heart is full of the thoughts of your ill- 
ness. How I should like, were it possible, to see you ! 
but I am alone here, my Curate being absent. Yet I 

will cherish the faint hope, that when able to move, 

may bring you here and take care of you. 

* * * * * - .* >-:fIOffl£ 

" I am full of work now, having taken charge of three 



EEY. E. A. SUCKLING. 



hundred more people, and should very much like to have 
three 6 sisters ' to help me in schools, &c, and had 

thought of writing to ask to come and stay with us. 

I hope, if she cannot persuade you to come, you will 
persuade her. 

" I assure you of my poor prayers for you. In this 
sickness, how consoling is the thought, — all things shall 
work together for good to them that love God ! And 

you, , love Him, and so I know that it shall prove a 

blessing. How sweet is the time when our 6 light afflic- 
tions ' begin to yield the peaceable fruits of righteous- 
ness ! how blessed to think of God's great mercy and 
goodness to us, who are less than the least, and not 
worthy of all the mercies which He has shown us ! 
What is there in its, that He should call us to take His 
yoke and learn of Him, and give us such sweet rest ? 
And what must be the sweetness of that rest above, if the 
streams which reach 'to us are so rich and refreshing ? 
We can only value health by experiencing sickness ; rest, 
by having toiled hard ; peace, by having felt the burden 
of sin. So the health, peace, and rest of heaven can only 
be enjoyed and ' entered into' by such as in this world 
have endured afflictions with the people of God, fought 
the hard fight against Satan, and • come, weary and 
heavy laden, to Jesus for rest. These are they (whom 
S. John saw in vision) who have passed through much 
tribulation, and washed their robes white in the Blood of 
the Lamb. And then, again, where were they gathered 
from ? Why truly in their day they were had in deri- 
sion, and a proverb of reproach ; their life was accounted 
madness, and their end without honour.' And shall it 
astonish us, that those who are hereafter to be numbered 
among the children of God, were thus accounted of 
by the world ? In the sanctuary of our God we shall 

l 2 



148 



MEMOIR OF THE 



learn they were the hungry, the thirsty, the strangers, 
naked, sick, and even in prison, — the foolish of this 
world, that none should glory in His Presence. How 
precious is that promise, that God shall hide us from the 
strife of tongues! how blessed for you to go on enjoying 
that which is so fiercely disputed about ! Leave all these 
things, and make your Bible your companion, and drink 
in its truths ; hang on its promises, and be filled with His 
love, Who is revealed therein, ' as the Friend of sinners,' 
as casting away none who come to Him, — our great 
High Priest, through Whom we may come boldly to 
the throne of grace, and find grace to help in time of 
need. 

" In Him, dear , ever yours, 

" It. A. S." 

To Mrs. L— . 1 donidO arft 

" Bussage. March 4tth, 1850. 

" My dear — — , 

" I cannot delay writing to thank you for your 
great kindness in thinking of me, and sending me so 
valuable a token of your friendship, which, believe me, I 
shall cherish much. It is now in the best place in my 
study, over the fire-place, and I trust will not only remind 
me of you, but of Him in Whose religion we hold fellow- 
ship, and in Whom are all our hopes. Believe me, my 
poor prayers are with you now, that you may be supported 
and upheld in all your trials. I should much like to 

come over, but I do not like to leave Mr. alone just 

now that our duties are so heavy, and we have more than 
twice as many people now. I preach twice every week, 
at six o'clock in the morning, during Lent, and a Wed- 
nesday evening sermon, — besides three on Sundays, — 



EET. R. A. STICKLING. 



149 



is more than I could leave to him. Should anything 
turn up in the way of assistance, I should much like to 
leave for a few days. I thank God, I have not been 
better for years than I now am, so that I do not feel what 
I am now doing, though I rise every day soon after four. 

I am sorry to hear is so overworked ; and it would 

be one inducement for me to leave for a few days, to 
give him assistance in visiting, if I could. I pray God to 
bless his labours in His cause, and that he may turn 
many to righteousness. I feel this is a very poor return 
for your letter, but I hope to write shortly to you again. 
In the meanwhile, believe me as always 

" Most sincerely yours, 

"R. A. Suckling." 

To the same lady, in speaking of the divisions in 
the Church he adds : — 

" How sad are all these disputes ! "Where will they 
end ? .... To think that creatures of a day, as we are, 
should occupy our precious time in fighting against each 
other ! it is a device of Satan's to draw men's minds from 
the great eternity before us. My only refuge, amid all 
the perplexity and doubt, is the visitation of the sick. 
If doubts at all cross my mind, I find them removed by 
the bed of sickness; there all seems real. If S. Paul 
sums up his three years' teaching at Ephesus, as having 
testified to them repentance towards God, and faith 
towards our Lord Jesus Christ, surely we may do the 
same ; and feel confident that, in so doing, we are in the 
path of safety, for God's word will then be a light unto 
our feet. Only let us pray, and not faint." 



150 



MEM OIK OF THE 



To Miss * * * a lady connected with his former 
parish, in a letter dated April 21, 1850, he writes : 

"It is sad and perplexing what is happening now in 
the Church ; but throughout all Church history there has 
always been something of the kind to vex and try. The 
enemy is never idle ; and while men sleep, he sows tares ; 
and then they begin to awake, and wish to root them up. 
This seems the case now. For my part, I do not sympa- 
thise with the excitement which is abroad now ; it is a poor 
soil for love to grow in, and men's minds could not now 
come to a calm, deliberate, charitable judgment. . . . . 
But for your part, quietness and confidence is your 
strength. Do not trouble yourself, read as little contro- 
versy as possible, serve God in the station He has placed 
you in, see that you grow in grace and love, and all will 
be well." 

In another letter to the same, dated May 3rd, 
1850, the following passage occurs : — 

" We are, by the providence of God, thrown in 
dangerous and painful times ; therefore, perhaps, I may 
have spoken too cautiously. But I cannot conceal from 
myself that there is a great and increasing tendency to 
Romanism ; and I fear any advances, however small, as 
being the more dangerous and subtle. I think there are 
wide and important differences between us, and that 
mainly and principally arising from their and our view of 
justification. This view must necessarily run through 
their devotional books, and may therefore be secretly im- 
bibed by us ; and if once embraced, I do not see that 
such a person is safe. His affections are in a measure 
centred in that Church, and he is ready, on any occasion 



KEY. E. A. SUCKLING. 



151 



which he considers of sufficient importance to justify such 
a step, to join the Church of Rome. On this ground 
alone can I account for the secessions that have already 
taken place, and that probably will take place. Get 
clear views of the doctrine of Justification, as taught by 
our Church, and then perhaps you may use the devo- 
tional books without danger : study S. Paul's epistle to 
the Romans, with prayer. 

-aqarrs ion ob I t tii?yryoI .fton qbbo sd) eraasg ginT 
lo Miss . 

" Bussage. July 23, 1850. 

" My dear , 

" Yesterday we had the children from the work- 
house here, (74,) master, and mistress, and nurse. A 
beautiful day, and such happy faces, poor dear children ! 
they so enjoyed themselves, and behaved so well, and 
sung so nicely, and were so orderly, that it was a real 
gratification to see them. 

u I have been thinking of the great likeness of the pre- 
sent times to those in which our Lord first came. What 
a great effort was there then to produce a religion of out- 
ward appearance and pomp only, — the twelve tribes 
instantly serving God, yet the Saviour unknow r n ! So 
it is now : but the Saviour was found of the meek and 
lowly of heart, — Simeon, and Anna, and such like ; there- 
fore, fear not, though great disruption should take place 
in the visible Church. The Lord knoweth His jewels. 
It is indeed a blessing to find a home in no religious 
party, as such, but to look above to our eternal resting- 
place. Happy, blissful will be the birthdays 1 celebrated 
there ! Here, strange as it may seem, God's servants are 
lonely, without sympathy ; for few love Jesus in a pure 
1 His own was just passed, being on the 18th of July. 



MEMOIR OP THE 



heart. Faith is failing, therefore men are disputing 
about it; but stand fast. He that hath the Son hath 
life ! Now God bless and preserve you." 

IVtt \\r fire rftit^fi ninti fi'lff^ii^i oDfroitfiCT diiif fctiini *nsxj 
It is to be regretted that at this time, we have 
nothing but fragments of correspondence ; for the 
absence of the context, even when nothing material 
is omitted, vet detracts much from the force and 
interest of the letters. Indeed, particulars in 
themselves the most immaterial, vet conduce very 
much to support the appearance of reality ; and 
the more strongly so when least important in them- 
selves. So that many savings, the most impressive 
and beautiful from the manner in which they occur 
in the letters, appear but trite and commonplace 
when thus detached and divested of what gave 
them life. Yet sufficient is even here afforded to 
furnish us with the continuous thread of history in 
traits of the same loving character, ever abounding 
with thoughts of good. 



To Miss . 

" Sept. 16th, 1850. 

" My dear , 

" I am glad to get a line from you, and can 
only send you one in return. I have been much worked 
of late, and I fear my strength begins to fail. There 
have been sad cases in the workhouse, and the school- 
master and mistress are suddenly gone, (a month ago.) 
having been appointed to a union elsewhere, and as yet 
their place has not been supplied. How I wished for you, 
but dared not ask, knowing you could not come 



EEY. E. A. STICKLING. 



153 



How sad is Lord F 's secession ! Alas ! who may not 

go next ? — I tremble to think ; only let us be firm built 
upon the Rock, fruitful in good works, bringing forth 
our fruits with patience, faithful unto death, and all will 
be well. May God bless every endeavour to forward 

His kingdom ! May His blessing rest upon dear . 

May He guide us all into truth, dear child, so that here- 
after we may rest in His kingdom. Go onward in your 
labours, casting all your care on Him. Look not beyond 
to-day; sufficient is the evil of to-morrow to itself. 
Avoid controversy, and everything that genders strife ! 
yet witness calmly for the truth, bear the reproach of 
Christ, esteem it greater riches than all the treasures of 
this world, choose rather to suffer affliction with the 
people of God ; visit the sick, comfort the cast down, 
bear the burdens of the weak, look to the recompense of 
the reward above, — then God will not be ashamed to be 
called your God. And O, may we meet in His courts 
above, to praise Him to all eternity ! Praise Him now, 
for He is good, and His mercy endureth for ever." 



" Your position will be a very difficult one at 

; but ' as thy day thy strength shall be.' I know it 

is a sad place for controversy, but wait patiently on 
the Lord, and He will direct your goings ; wait till you 
get there, and see what opens. I should say, go to the 
district Church where your lodgings are. . . . God will 
not suffer you to lack any blessings not offered you, but 
will Himself feed you, enabling you more truly to live 
a daily life of faith, feeding spiritually on Him. ... In 
all such cases, regard yourself as called by God to go 



To the same. 



§ *1q eMguom nir?/ 
" October, 1850. 



My dear 



154 



memoir or the 



out ; and remember it is 4 not knowing whither you go :' 

this is the part of faith. God would not call you to , 

unless for good. So ask, J Lord, what wouldst Thou 
have me to do ?' in all that happens to you. Be straight- 
forward and open in all that you do. Remember that 
with the trial the strength will come, not before j so do 
not anticipate what may never be. ' Sufficient for the 
day is the evil thereof.' ... I trust I have said some- 
thing to be useful to you. The Lord bless you, and 
keep you, child, unto His heavenly kingdom. 

" Ever yours in Him, 

" E. A. S." 

To the same. 

" My dear , 

" Our Saviour's peace is, as you observe, 1 My 
peace / that peculiar, perfect peace, which possessed His 
soul, though He was ' the man of sorrows,' — they must 
always be felt in this world. Heaven is the only place 
where God shall wipe away tears, and sorrow be no 
more. 4 In the midst of the sorrows that I have in my 
heart, Thy comforts have refreshed my soul.' 

" I do not think that the tenth verse of 1 S. Pet. v. 
means e that to be unsettled here, and not see things 
clearly, is part of our probation.' For consider icho they 
were the Apostle wrote to. He describes them (i. 5) as 
for a season in heaviness through manifold temptations ; 
but in verse 2, he prays not that peace may be given them, 
but only that their present peace might be multiplied. 
Again, he speaks of them, verse 3, as having a lively 
hope, and verse 8, as loving Him Whom they did not 
see ; in short, as having peace, though sorrowful. The 
word 'heaviness' means settled, enduring sorrow, but not 
interfering with peace, joy, love, or hope, but rather 



RET. E. A. SUCKLING. 



155 



making it more and more bright ; for, verse 7, he tells us 
the reason of this heaviness, viz., to purify them. 

" I sympathise very much with you in the very painful 
position in which you are placed, and think you are 
acting rightly. I like your note very much ; on that 
point (teaching of dissenters) you must be steadfast. 
And so, too, with the Clergyman, if you have an inter- 
view with him ; but at the same time let him see you are 
free from Romanizing tendencies. 

* rahfy^trJ vi.<*&v-ft4«r erff f irm ^frrfo n&r rrq<yjf 

" I am glad you like ' Trench it would be very nice 
to make an analysis of it. I should like to see it when 
it is done. I assure you of my poor prayers. 

" Ever, dear child, yours in our blessed Lord, 

"R. A. S." 

To a friend, who has furnished us with two pre- 
vious letters, he writes at this time. 

»ofikr vino 9iit gx n97i>9H Jmow sidi ni Jlsi so bybwib 

"Bussage. Sept. 16, 1850. 

" My dear B , 

" I am glad to hear you are prospering where 
you are : may you go on to do so, and may the Great 
Head of the Church bless your labour to His glory ! for 
surely there is a need. How sad are these secessions ! 
where will they end, and with whom ? God only knows. 
May He preserve us faithful unto the end. 

" Our good friend Mr. J — *— was suddenly gathered 
to his rest last week, and is to be buried to-morrow. I 
hope and believe the summons did not find him un- 
prepared. He was visiting His patients, felt ill, returned 
home, and died almost directly after. Truly in the 
midst of life we are in death I How ought not we to 



MEMOIR OF THE 



stand with our loins girded and our lamps burning — 
pointing souls the way to heaven in season and out of 
season, striving to rescue them from perdition. stab 

" I hear is from home at . O that you would 

both agree to forget the past, forgiving one another as 
God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you. 

st Ever sincerely yours, 
" R. A. Suckling." 

U0*{ iuUnfidS 1KB I Si b^huteih Hi t TSSrf I t ~Mt* 

To Miss . 

"Bussage. Nov. 13th, 1850. 

" My dear , 

" My head is a little stronger to-day, though I 
have not yet recovered my voice ; so I sit down to write 
a few lines, to thank you for your nice note, which gave 
me great pleasure to receive. I enjoyed your visit here, 
and trust it may please God to allow you to pay us a 
much longer one soon. How strange, was it not, you 
should be here on SS. Simon and Jude ? I wished much 
to pray with you, but (as far as my head allows me to 
recollect) could not find you sufficiently alone. 

" I indeed from my heart truly agree with all you say 
about being * led on/ nor do I think now you too much 
rest on man. I feel you are on the right path that leads 
to life eternal ; you have chosen it yourself, and blessed 
are you. . . . Amidst all the distractions and perplexity 
of these latter days, you are building yourself on the 
Rock, and when the storms which are now gathering and 
lowering around the Church's horizon shall burst upon 
her, your foot, I verily believe, will be found firm. The 
Prophet says, (Dan. xi. 35.) And can it be we are 
about to lose Manning? Times are growing very dark, 
and our hour of trial draws on apace. O, pray for those 
who stand foremost in the trial, that their feet stumble 



BEY. E. A. SUCKLING. 



157 



not on the dark mountains ; that He that keepeth Israel 
will not suffer their foot to be moved, but may be their 
defence on their right hand ! 

" I feel very thankful for the Bishop of London's 
charge, saving, I think he does not justice to the 6 Sisters 
of Mercy.' But let them, nevertheless, weigh well his 
words, for they are words of wisdom, and look not for the 
praise of men, lest haply they lose the praise of God. 

" B , I hear, is disturbed by it. I am thankful you 

and go on so comfortably together ; I pray you may 

mutually strengthen each other in your exile. God, in 
His wisdom, is drawing out some of His servants, that 
they may pray for those in the strife ; and if you shrink 
back from thinking this cannot apply to you, recollect He 
chooses the foolish things of this world to confound the 
wise. And as of old He chose the three hundred that 
lapped to save Israel by, so now the prayers of the sick 
and lonely, the bed-ridden and infirm, are entering into 
the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth, and are of a truth the 
pillars which support the arms of those whom God has 
placed in the forefront. 

" My dearest child, should you think I would think 
you * volatile and trifling ?' I joyed to see you so joyfully 
resigned to the will of God. How then could you other- 
wise than rejoice ? The kingdom of God is peace and 
joy in the Holy Ghost ; and if God keeps our hearts in 
perfect peace, His Spirit witnessing with ours we are His 
children, — it pleading in our hearts, Abba, Father, — 
how can we otherwise than leap for joy ? 

" Farewell. Love to dear . Avoid controversial 

talking with your friends, and live as if you knew not of 
the strife without .... 

" Ever yours in our Lord, 

" R. A. Suckling." 



158 



MEMOIR OP THE 



It has been sometimes said that the character in 
the person addressed is more shown in corres- 
pondence than that of the writer : as in discourse 
the tone of the voice and manner undergoes an 
almost imperceptible change, according to the indi- 
vidual with whom we converse in a mixed society. 
This is not so much the case in the epistolary re- 
mains of our beloved friend as in some others ; 
there was about him such a singleness and simpli- 
city, that where he finds one whose heart is open 
to the magic key of his sympathies, attracted with 
a more than magnetic influence, he pours out that 
depth of a loving soul that rested in GrOD ; but 
where he finds it not, for the most part he is silent. 
Yet even in his case the reader will not fail to 
notice — though it were invidious to point it out, a 
slight difference, and the peculiar sweetness and 
spontaneous fulness of some of the letters. 

The following may mark the close of this sad 
year, so eventful to our distressed Church, indi- 
cating what effect circumstances had on himself, 
and where he looked to for help. He more than 
once before his death, likened these troubles and 
angry contentions without, to the loud howling 
of the winds that were but urging us and bearing 
onward to the haven where we would be. Such 
were they indeed to himself, they have passed away 
as the idle wind that cometh not again, but while 
they lasted, they urged him onward and increased 
his longings and endeavours after that rest in 
which, ere another year had passed, he now looks 



KEY. E. A. STICKLING. 



159 



back in safety from the bosom of his Eatheb, and 
his God. 



# 



To Mrs. P . 

" Dec. 10th, 1850. 



" The town of London seems in one great bustle of 
excitement, not only against the Pope, but the ' Pusey- 
ites.' Placards on the walls couple both together. Some 
of the sermons, I am told, are very violent in certain 
Churches, and a general feeling pervades people's minds 
that Government will take the matter up with a high 
hand, and put down Puseyism ; by which, I fear, they 
will take such steps as will reduce the Church to a mere 
sect, banishing all Clergy who will not subscribe to the 
Queen's supremacy, for example. Times do look very 
threatening and serious ; I hope in mercy the clouds will 
blow over. Perhaps you have seen the Bishops' address 
to the Queen, and the one from the Bishop of Exeter, 
because he would not sign the other ? I think he is in 
the right, and do not like to see the Bishops almost 
cringing (it seems) to Government. In the meantime, 
Punch is taking the matter up, and spreading it over the 
country by his vile caricatures." 

To Miss . 

" Dec. Ibth, 1850. 

" My dear , 

"Your letter grieves me about , though 

why should it ? — our loss will be her gain ; for she will 
be taken from the evil to come. What pleasure would it 
give me to think that she will continue well enough till 
Spring, so that she could be moved here ! indeed, we 



160 



MEMOIR OF THE 



should count it a great privilege to have her in the house, 
and nurse her. Should her thoughts turn this way, will 

you say so ? 

" Times are sad and dark, but does not the word ' per- 
plexity ' explain all ? 

"I am persuaded our principles are right, however 

erroneously some may hold them. All hopes, as 

far as we may judge, (and that we are bound to do,) are 

built upon the sand of outward observances. .... The 

melancholy impression forced on my mind is, that such 

can never really have apprehended the great truth, that 

the Son of Man is come to seek and to save that which 

is lost, and as lost only can we find rest in Him. 

****** 

" It is sad to see so many great names in the list of 
defaulters to the cause of the Church ; but I am not sur- 
prised. There are many who are grieved at heart on 
account of the sad state of the Church ; but look at Ezek. 
ix. 4. God's elect are they who sigh and cry on account 
of the sad state of the Church. This is a mark of 
election, — there is no other ; it is the mind of Christ, 
viewing things, as He does, mournfully and sadly, but 
lovingly weeping over sinners. God set a mark upon 
them, because they had a work to do. I will mention 
that work directly. It is clear that the peculiar tempta- 
tion they would be open to would be that of despair ; 
that they would have to guard against. If they gave up 
all for lost, they would cease to pray. If as great a saint 
as Elijah did despair, and ask to die, under the same 
trial, can we wonder that some do so now ? You know 
God's answer to Elijah, — so it is now; though many 
faint when they should still pray, yet God will hear His 
elect, who cry day and night for the peace of Zion. Now 
this was the especial work for those who sighed and 



EEV. K. A. SUCKLING. 



mourned. God promised that He would raise up Israel 

again ; the glory of the temple now in ruins should be 

greater than the first, Judea, now desolate, should be like 

the garden of Eden ; (and have we not blessed promises, 

1 all the ends of the earth,' &c., &c. ?) but He says, (ch. 

xxxvi. xxxvii.) that His saints must pray for it, that it 

may come to pass. He shows (ch. viii.) He will not 

hear the common worshippers, (ch. xiv.,) that He will not 

hear the elders. It remains that those who sigh and cry 

are those He will hear; and if we, or any, feel deeply 

the painful state of things, we see our work — our cross : 

are we to shrink from it, and go to Samaria to worship 

at Gerizim — we know not what? Be of good cheer. 

God has a work for us to do, and He will purify our 

Church, and yet make her a praise in the earth. 

****** 

" Ever, dear child, yours, 

"H. A. S." 

tawMs 00 no baa xfeis onw pfli 3ic Josria k^uoiQF ,£ uei 

To Mrs. L . 

"Bussage. Bee. 29^, 1850. 

" My dear , 

" This season is, as you truly say, one of re- 
joicing to all, yet I would trust we rejoice with truer joy 
than the world in the vague knowledge that ' unto us a 
Child is born/ but that our rejoicing is the testimony of 
conscience that He is Emmanuel, ' God with us.' And 
so we know that He was called Jesus, not only with our 
understanding, but with our heart (which believeth unto 
righteousness) ; for He was so called because He should 
(and does) save us from our sins. This is indeed a 
joyful season, in that not only does it bring Christmas 
near to us, but us near to Christ. This is the subject 
of all our examination of the past year,— whether we are 
M 



162 



MEMOIR OF THE 



nearer Him ? — how far His Spirit witnesseth with our 
spirit? The proof is whether we have more love to 
Him as our Saviour, — whether it be the ruling prin- 
ciple of our life, so that we keep His commandments, 
not only because He has bidden us, but because we feel a 
principle within us prompting to do so. No laws can be 
prescribed for love j it is a law unto itself. And if indeed 
we feel this love ruling us, what perfect freedom is His 
service ! How blessed it is to do His will! — 'It is very- 
joy and rejoicing of our hearts, because we are called by 
His Name !' 

" As to our falls for the past year, alas ! they are many 
and grievous, but they are of ourselves, because we for- 
sook Him; but it was His mercy kept us from going 
further, and in this we rejoice. He did not suffer us, 
neither did He cut us off, but spared us, — allowed us 
time to repent. It was all His mercy ; He looked at us 
in pity. So our very falls give us fresh occasion to adore 
and praise His Name. And after sin has been repented 
of and pardoned, it is one of the sweetest pleasures of 
God's saints to trace His overruling and ever watching 
Hand, bringing good out of evil, curbing our unruly 
passions, and turning man's fierceness to His praise. I 

am so glad to hear all you tell me of . O let him 

work on, and see and know the value of souls ! And 
what a privilege and responsibility we are called to, to 
save them from everlasting misery ! It was the highest 
honour the Almighty could confer on His Son, made 
flesh, (Isa. xlix.,) to send Him to recover a lost world. 
It is our privilege to follow in His steps ; and so our office 
is the highest in the world, because most like to Christ's. 
O what music in those words, 1 Let him know that he 
which converteth the sinner from the error of his way, 
shall save a soul from death /' The consolation that this 



RET. R. A. SUCKLING. 



163 



brings, — the knowledge that God has so blessed our 
ministry, that one soul has been rescued from sin and 
misery, to follow Jesus in his right mind, compensates 
for many, many disappointments, and raises us up when 
in the depth of despair. Let him then ■ cast his bread 
on the waters, and faint not/ (Isa. xl. 28, 31.) 

" We are proposing to have a midnight service here, 
with Holy Communion, on New Year's eve. When it is 
over, I shall hope to give you an account of it. 

" Believe me, very sincerely yours, 

" R. A. S." 

Mr. Suckling here speaks of the midnight ser- 
vice he was about to have at the close of another 
year. It will not be out of place here to give 
an extract from the sermon which he preached on 
that occasion, as striking in itself, and the more so 
from what has since occurred, — his own death 
which he anticipates, and his grave which he sup- 
poses as preaching to them ere the year then com- 
mencing had passed. 

" Watchman, what of the night ? Watchman, what of 
the night? The watchman said, The morning cometh, 
and also the night." — Isaiah xxi. 11, 12. 

" Beloved brethren, — The Lord of the vineyard hath 
been out early in the morning, to hire labourers into His 
vineyard ; the third hour, the sixth, the ninth are past, 
and now is the eleventh hour \ and still is He hiring 
labourers! * Little children, it is the last hour!' saith 
the beloved disciple. The world's day is nearly ended — 
it is the last time — the world is getting old — it is dying. 
M 2 



164 



MEMOIR OP THE 



It has hut a short time longer to live ; the year too is 
getting old ; it is the last hour of the year; a few more 
minutes, and the year will be dead. As friends gather 
together to watch every breath of the departing soul, so 
do we now meet here to see the death of the old year. 
Soon it will be numbered with the past; soon gone into 
the eternity of the past, laden with our sins and iniquities. 
Soon will the world's years be fulfilled ; now they are 
drawing to a close, for we live in its dying hour. As we 
watch the heaving chest of the dying sufferer, as he 
labours for his breath ; so do we behold the world, now 
groaning and travailing in pain for its dissolution. 1 Be- 
hold, the end of all things is at hand ; be ye therefore 
sober, and watch unto prayer.' 

" Near as is the end of the year, so too are we near 
our end. Soon shall we be numbered with the past, and 
be in our graves ; soon shall we be forgotten, and others 
will pass by our graves as carelessly as we pass by those 
already there ; soon shall we go to our long, long home, 
and be forgotten by the careless world. Others shall 
tread over our graves, and forget who is buried there ; 
but what matter if our record is on high, — if our name be 
written in the Book of Life ! 

"The sand of the last year is running out; so too 

passes away our life. The year 1850 is fled and gone; 

life too is going, — this lifeless life ; night cometh, and 

cometh death, — the deathless death. Near as is the end 

of the year, so too is the end of life ! Lord, we beseech 

Thee, that, as this old year dies away, quietly, peaceably, 

so too may we die ! 

****** 

" The night is dark to the wicked, but it gives light to 
God's people as they journey on; their faith has been 
like the glimmering light, shining more and more. As 



BEY. E. A. SUCKLING. 



165 



they reach forward towards the heavenly Jerusalem, the 
everlasting tribes come in sight, and the light of the city 
beams upon them. 

" Beloved brethren, are your affections more on hea- 
venly things? are you more weaned from earth? do 
earthly trials less vex you, because you feel there is a 
time soon coming when there shall be no more sorrow, 
or toil, or trouble? Are you more and more convinced 
of the utter nothingness of all things here below, that the 
temporal things which are seen shall soon pass away, for 
those eternal things which as yet are not seen ? Do you 
know that the time is short, so short ? 

" Since we met here last new year, how many have 
passed away from this fleeting world ! how busily has 
death been gleaning ! — here entering the loved circle, 
darkening the house and the heart by sudden bereave- 
ment, taking us to the mouth of the grave, and there, 
amid our tears, bidding us prepare to meet our God. 
Or it may be, God hath written upon our earthly sub- 
stance, ' Gold which perisheth or perhaps He has crossed 
our schemes, and marred our earthly prospects, leaving 
us only the wreck of disappointed hopes. Amid all this 
darkness, brethren, what of the night ? what are your 
hopes stayed on ? what do you look forward to ? 

" How speaks the past to you ? with what voice do 
they who worshipped with us here last year, but upon 
whom the morning or the night has come, — with what 
voices do they speak to thee ? Look at their fresh-made 
graves, — do they silently preach to thee ? The old man 
who sat in that place, which another now fills, whose 
wearied limbs brought him day by day to worship here, 
— who was found dead in his bed, but who partook with 
us of the One Bread last New Year's night, — how speaks 
he to thee ? The boy, scarce ten years old, who was 



166 



MEMOIR OF THE 



killed at the mill, — others that died, that you have 
known, — their night has passed, the long, long day has 
dawned upon them, or else the endless night of gloom 
and blackness of darkness for ever ! 

" What of the night ? You are spared ; but it may be, 
ere another year has passed, your grave — yes, the youngest 
among you, or perchance mine, may be reading the same 
solemn lesson to thee ! Who can tell ? 

" O happy soul, that waits for Him, that longs and 
looks for His appearance! The night of death draws 
near to thee, but it is robbed of its sting, and death has 
lost its victory. When that hour comes, thou shalt lay 
thyself down to thy last sleep, and the Church will com- 
mit thy body to the grave in sure and certain hope ; for 
thou wilt sleep in Jesus. The heavens of God shall 
curtain thee, and the promises of God pillow thee in thy 
repose ; and though worms destroy thy body, yet in thy 
flesh shalt thou see God. Soon the voice of the arch- 
angel, and the trump of the Lord shall summon thee 
forth ; for the morning of eternity dawns, and a day shall 
commence, bright with happiness, and eternal in duration, 
for there is no night there !" 



The Penitentiary. 1851. 

And now this short and broken year on which 
we are entering, before its untimely close, brings to 
our view the House of Mercy. He from Whom 
are the preparations of heart in man, knew the 
prayers and alms of the devout Cornelius, and was 



EEV. E. A. SUCKLING. 



167 



simultaneously afar off, training and instructing S. 
Peter, in his solitary prayers on the housetop, that 
both might come together for the saving of the 
Grentiles. Such things are occurring even now in 
the kingdom of grace. 

It had been determined to establish a House of 
Refuge in the diocese, which might serve, not for 
the mere external reformation, but for the real re- 
pentance and saving of the souls of lost women ; 
but no place had been as yet decided on, the 
neighbourhood of Bussage had been thought of as 
desirable for the purpose, but without any reference 
to Mr. Suckling. But it was strongly felt that the 
one great requirement was that God would raise 
up some one, whose whole heart would be in the 
work, without which the difficulties in an undertak- 
ing of this kind are insurmountable. And doubt- 
less it was a gracious interposition of Providence 
which thus brought the subject before the notice 
of one whom the Grood Spieit had so singularly 
schooled for such a calling ; and the very difficulties 
of which would serve to his peculiar character as 
the more constraining motives, being but as the 
mountains which faith removes, and which vanish 
at the breath of effectual prayer. His letters and 
sermons — many of them so exquisitely tender and 
considerate in kindling " the smoking flax," and 
sustaining the "bruised reed," — will sufficiently 
prove his remarkable fitness for this work : and for 
an undertaking so arduous, he was peculiarly cal- 
culated by the eminent holiness of his life. It 



168 



MEMOIK OP THE 



has been well said that persons of this description 
— the poor outcasts thus received and sheltered — 
are to be treated like children on account of the 
patient discipline required for their strong impulses 
and unruly tempers. So would a pure and inno- 
cent spirit love to correct and bear with them with 
something of parental tenderness ; and so has our 
Blessed Lord left the term of His " little ones," as 
of doubtful application whether He intends thereby 
children in nature or in grace. But there is also 
another more awful view, no less true, it is like the 
casting out of evil spirits from persons in whom 
they have taken possession, which can only be done 
" by the finger of God," and through those who are 
themselves much in earnest in works of repentance 
and self- discipline. "Jesus I know, and Paul I 
know, but who are ye ?" It is not every one that 
can deal unharmed with such circumstances. " Sa- 
tan will not give them up," said Mr. Suckling, 
"without a hard struggle." In such cases, their 
name is legion. Eor they hold possession amidst 
a multitude of bad passions, difficult to be controlled 
and brought under, and cast out ; — 

" Hinc exaudiri gemitus irseque 
Vincla recusantum." 

It must be by prayer and gentleness that the 
"Stronger Man" enters in, such are His all-pre- 
vailing arms. It is "the Finger of God," expres- 
sive of ease and gentleness, not the strong arm of 
power. In confirmation of these observations, an 



RET. E. A. SUCKLING. 



169 



incident is mentioned, which indicated that Mr. 
Suckling never, unless it were by unavoidable ac- 
cident, visited the inmates of the Penitentiary, 
without that preparation of the heart, which is by 
prayer. 

But with regard to his general fitness for this 
work, a Clergyman who attended Mr. Suckling's 
funeral, in a private letter to a relative, on that 
occasion, has so well described his character, that, 
with his leave, it is here transcribed. Speaking of 
another, he adds : 

" He invariably, in spite of all differences of opinion, 
looked up to him (i.e. Mr. S.) as a model of very advanced 
holiness. That pattern will be more fully than ever 
before him now, for now it is finished, — nothing can be 
added to or diminished from it. He was but thirty- 
three years of age, and eight out of those years were 
spent at sea. I used to wonder how he shot before 
others of long preparative training, by an intuitive and 
instant apprehension and discernment. Perhaps this 
made him think and say that he should soon, even before 
this winter was over, be called away in the midst of his 
work ; it is even so ; and he is saved from the perilous 
consequences of precociousness in holy things. 

" His great power was over the very highest and lowest 
of the daughters of our race, — saintly women and poor 
fallen girls. With these last he could identify himself 
completely. He could throw himself heart and soul into 
their sad case, and divest himself of all sense of super- 
iority ; he could go down hand in hand with them into 
the lowest pits of sin and misery, and then bring them 
hand in hand, step by step, as brother sinner leading 



170 



ME MO IE OE THE 



sister sinner up again. Still more extraordinary, he 
could teach well-bred women, such as deservedly stand 
in the upper ranks of society, both as regards birth and 
education, and moral bearing. He could teach them — 
hard lesson to them, judging by the rarity of it — to lower 
themselves down in saintly humility, in sinners' garb, to 
the outcasts of their own sex, and restore them by 
penitential discipline to the bosom of the Church, whom 
the world had disowned by a self-righteous decree. This 
is the important necessity and qualification ; nothing can 
be done with the fallen, if this humility be wanting, 
which saints only can attain to, and which ordinary 
Christians, yet real Christians, cannot. I fear the scarcity 
of high saints causes the abundance of low outcasts." 

" He was overflowing," adds the same person, " with 
holy unction; it was this which ran down from the 
highest and holiest to the lowest and most fallen. He 
could bind both extremes together in one embrace of 
love, by bowing them down to one low penitential level ; 
and this not by preaching, nor by praying directly, nor 
by any express priestly act, but by that mystery of holy 
unction, — that magic, saintly tone, which attunes and 
attempers all discordant jars to its own sweet harmony." 

His temper, too, well suited him for this office. 
It is said that he was by nature hasty and impetu- 
ous, and this may seem not improbable, from the 
energy of his character ; but if it ever were so, it 
must have been a singular marvel of Divine grace 
that it should have been so subdued, for they who 
knew him most intimately for the last twelve years, 
never found the slightest remains of it, nothing 
that ever ruffled his gentleness of spirit. That he 



BET. E. A. SUCKLING. 



171 



was keenly sensitive to all the evils of life, is evi- 
dent ; but this only served as an incentive to seek 
for refuge in the love of GrOD and in looking for 
His rest ; which he did so instinctively and habitu- 
ally, that it had become to him as a second nature : 
like an infant scared by sights and sounds around 
him, which instantly hides its head on its mother's 
bosom, and is only rendered thereby the more 
sensible of that security. And hence it may be 
observed that in all the trials and afflictions of his 
friends, to which he was so alive, he does not, like 
many charitable and good men, endeavour to con- 
sole them by proofs of kindness or expressions of 
affection, but his whole endeavour and his great 
art is that of winning them to seek for peace, where 
he himself found it, in God. This is the character- 
istic of his touching sympathy. In this consists 
the invaluable and holy charm of his Letters, this 
his own peculiar gift which pervades them, not as 
if preaching to others or instructing them where 
they are to seek for consolation, but rather pouring 
out from the treasure-house of his own heart some- 
thing of those inestimable riches which there were 
hidden, and quietly insinuating into those souls 
which some wound had opened, that rest and peace 
which he himself had found. Our poet hath said, 
that " the truest wisdom and the noblest art, is his 
who best skills of comfort p. and among the " sons 
of consolation," it would be no easy matter to find 
any more wise in this noble wisdom or more 
skilled in this art which the Comforter alone teaches. 



172 



ME MO IE OF THE 



Another peculiar qualification Mr. Suckling had 
for this work, was his hopefulness. As they who 
are always suspecting evil often by their suspicions 
bring about that very evil which they apprehend ; 
so on the contrary, that charity which believes and 
hopes the best, often by this very confidence of 
good produces it, and by kindling the affections 
facilitates that improvement w T hich it looks for. 
For the affections in these cases are often perverted 
and debased, not extinguished. It must have been 
observed in Mr. Suckling's letters, how much there 
is of this trusting and hopeful kind under dis- 
couragement. It is also the case in his Sermons ; 
that one on " Sin separating from God," made a 
great impression on the Penitents, they frequently 
speak of it as making them see, more than they ever 
did before, the defilement of sin. Eut a reader 
knowing to whom it was addressed, would perhaps 
be most struck with its gentleness ^and tender 
encouragement. 

Another very essential point ought to be noticed 
in these his active sympathies which extended so 
fervently afar, and as we have observed were so 
universal, this his charity began at home, in his 
own house, and the care of his own household. 
This was indeed the subject of one of the first 
Tracts that he published, with the motto that 
"holiness in the Priest's household, is essential to 
the holiness of his parish." And it was noticed 
how much he superintended his own servants, 
making their conduct and the fulfilment of their 



RET. R. A. SUCKLING. 



173 



daily duties the object of his own peculiar concern 
with a pastor's eye. Such indeed, were essential 
to healthful charity, at its fountain-head. 

It will appear by the following extracts from his 
Letters how the subject of this House of Eefuge 
came before him, while engaged in similar labours ; 
how his heart responded to the call; how it awakened 
feelings interwoven with other interesting points 
in his own heart. It is not without significance 
that at the Cross of Christ together with Mary 
Magdalene, the received type of penitence, there is 
also the blessed Virgin, the emblem of purity, and 
the Disciple of divine love, and among them also 
the saintly Matron, the mother of James. This is 
the hallowed company. It is the foot of the Cross ; 
it is that which draws together and brings near, 
amidst the mockery and strife which is loud 
around and extends afar. If one may venture to 
say it, there is something in this correspondence 
that reminds one of that Divine fellowship. And 
the reason is because it is the history of one whose 
mind seemed to be making at the Cross its home, 
while from thence he stretched forth his aiding 
hand to the penitent, or rather of one who was as- 
sociating himself with penitence. And therefore, 
however faint and dim, yet it is a figure of such 
fellowship, it is an instinctive attempt to realize it, 
that comes before us. 

This short extract will supply the thread of the 
narrative, and the opening of the year : 



174 



MEMOIR OF THE 



To Miss . 

" Bussage. Jan. 15th, 1851. 
" I am so worn out and wearied with the miseries of 
the workhouse, over which I was allowed to have no 
control, that I yesterday resigned my office, and now am 
in the middle of a long letter to the guardians, complain- 
ing of their administration of the law." 

We have in the former year frequent allusions to 
this subject, showing how perse veringly under 
failing strength, he still clung to this most labori- 
ous and comparatively distant charge of the Stroud 
Workhouse, how unwillingly he relinquished it. 
Thus to the same correspondent he says ; August 
22, 1850 : 

<f I sit down to write you a few lines in some spare 
minutes, to tell you about the workhouse people. I find 
the duty very fatiguing, and almost resolve to give it up ; 
but fear lest, like Jonah, I should be fleeing from my 
work." 

And again, to the same, October 7, 1850 : 

" As to the workhouse, I am constantly saying I must 
give it up, and every time I go there, giving up my reso- 
lution; there is so much opportunity of doing good 
there. There has been an average of one death a week 
since I have been there." 

The Penitentiary now occurs for the first time ; 
and it will appear from this and the other letters 
on the subject, how intimately it was connected 
with his previous employments and the providential 
history of his mind. 



KEY. R. A. SUCKLING. 



175 



To the Rev. J. A. 

" Bussage. March 10th, 1851. 

" My dear A , 

" There is a secluded spot of ground, not far 
from the Church, containing rather over two acres. The 
only other place I can find, at all suitable, is the one on 
the glebe which I mentioned to you. 

" Regarding my offer, I hope all things will be well 
considered beforehand. My only desire is that it may 
be placed where the inmates would be most benefited. It 
is no sudden thought on my part, nor is it the mere wish 
to carry out a theory ; I hope I have long passed that, 
to the hidden life which alone can make its external 
working a blessing. I look upon the experience I have 
had in such cases as the Lord's doing, preparing me for 
a similar work elsewhere, now I am withdrawn from the 
Workhouse. My heart yearns towards such, and never 
have I felt the blessing of ministering to souls as I have 
in the ' black ward/ where these poor outcasts are kept. 
To see them gather round one who was not come to up- 
braid them, — to behold their anxious faces inquiring, 
though they dare not express it in words, ' Is there hope 
for me f — and to see the silent tear roll down the cheek, 
as one by one they have melted like snow before the sun, 
when the father's love in the parable of the Prodigal has 
been set before them, and they have been told (though 
they could hardly believe it) that the greatness of their 
sins had not taken away their birthright, and God was 
still their Father, as they had been taught in childhood, 
— and to hear the fearful temptations they were exposed 
to, even by parents, before they fell. This, and all 
together, makes me long to devote my life to God, in 
such a work of mercy as this. Surely of these God is 



176 



MEMOIR OF THE 



now saying, in that He has put it into your heart, and 
that of others, to begin this good work, Jer. xxx. 17. 
But believe, though this is my wish, I doubt not that, if 
it be not placed here, it will be because some one is found 
more fitted for the work, and in that I could not but re- 
joice. 

" Affectionately yours, 

"R. A. Suckling." 

How varied and all-extensive is his art of conso- 
lation! another form of sorrow comes before us 
in the next letter, that of not being able to serve 
God in the way that we should choose, and for this 
also he has a word from his unfailing store of 
sacred comfort. 

To Miss . 

" Bussage. Jan. 31st, 1851. 

" My dear , 

M I must no longer delay writing to you. What 

you tell me about gives me sincere pleasure, and I 

hope no untoward event will happen to prevent his wishes 
being accomplished. Will you convey my kind congra- 
tulations to him ? 

" I am indeed thankful to hear of your (if I may so 
call it) improved health ; it gives me hopes I may see you 
here again. It is indeed strange, as you say, that the 
event you have so long looked for as the completion of 
your earthly happiness should be so near, and yet the 
possibility of your availing yourself of it be so doubtful. 
But it teaches us God's ways are not our ways, and yet 
He makes all things work together for good. How 
blessed it is to lie passive in His hand, with the calm as- 
surance that * all is well/ — that what is, 6 is well f We 



BEY. B. A. SUCKLIKG. 



177 



might wish many things— that we could live longer, to 
be more useful, or have stronger health to accomplish the 
task assigned us, — and so be full of regrets. But what 
is all this but another form of discontent or pride ? He 
has no need of us, and can and will, if we be submissive, 
accomplish more by us in our weakness and sickness than 
we should in the strongest health. S. Paul reminds us, 
that those members of the body which seem to be more 
feeble, are the more necessary. We see it so in our body. 
We could spare a hand, or leg, or foot, or eye, and yet 
live ; while any accident to some insignificant part of our 
wonderful frame would cause instant death. So with 
the body, the Church, now. Not so much those members 
who seem to us just now so necessary for her spiritual 
well-being, — not so much on them does the welfare of 
the Church depend, but on the sick, infirm, bed-ridden, 
the ' feeble members much more are they now neces- 
sary, and their life is the life of the Church. 

* Oft in life's stillest shade/ &c. 
what a marvellous disclosure will the Last Day make, 
not only of sins, but mighty deeds accomplished by the 
prayer of faith, and patient self-denial, of many a hidden 
saint, whose fame never reached beyond their own street 
or village ! 

" So live, and it is Chbist ; so die, and it will be gain, 
unspeakable gain, for there is rest, peace, joy, — no 
sorrow, no tears, no misunderstandings ; all there shall 
pass away, and the vision of the slain Lamb, Whom not 
having seen we now love, shall fill our souls to all 
eternity. May Christ be in you the hope of glory, my 

dear , is my prayer ; dwell in hope of glory — pant 

for it — long to see Him as He is, Who so loved you. 

" Ever yours in Him, 

A. S." 

N 



178 



MEMOIR or THE 



On another occasion he writes : 

" Nothing will avail hut the entire change of every 
faculty, and all we are and have, to God, till our affec- 
tions wholly dwell in contemplation of heavenly things, 
and our souls pant after glory. ' Perfect love casteth 
out fear.' 1 Christ in you the hope of glory.' Seek 
after that ; kneel before Him, confessing what you are, 
and praying Him to make you what His Spirit witnesses 
to you you should be." 

The following again, addressed to a relative, has 
in it perhaps this peculiar to itself, that it speaks 
from the writer's own experience of that blessed- 
ness and rejoicing in sickness, which he urges upon 
others. 

To Mrs. . 

"Bussage. February 18th, 1851. 

a My dear H , 

" I am grieved to hear from that you are 

so poorly, and have so long been confined to the house, 
yet I doubt not you find it good to be afflicted, and re- 
cognize the Hand of a merciful God in all that has come 
upon you. From conversations I have had with you, I 
think that it will not be unacceptable if I write a few 
lines to you, more especially as your husband is now 
absent. Having had much sickness, and indeed now 
scarcely enjoying good health for two or three days to- 
gether, I can truly say, that it is a great blessing, in that 
then our Heavenly Father, if He smite us with one 
Hand, upholds and comforts us with the other. 

" It is a proof of His love, for when we are chastened, 
it is that we may not be condemned with the world, I 



KEY. B. A. STICKLING. 



179 



think there is hardly a more remarkable declaration in 
the Bible than that which declares that God chastens us 
in order ( that we might be partakers of His holiness /' 

" In ourselves we are nothing but sin, and by His 
merciful dealings He would bring us to feel ourselves 
sinners deserving eternal wrath, in order that, under the 
burden of our sins, we may flee to the Cross and find 
pardon. There is no time so favourable as affliction for 
serious thought ; meditating on our end, we are led to 
ask ourselves, are we fit to meet our God in judgment ? 
the present world seems so short, eternity so long, — and 
we bless God that He has forced us, as it were, to think, 
by laying us on a bed of sickness. 

* Another end is for the purifying us, ' making us par- 
takers of His holiness.' After having brought us to see 
ourselves as sinners, and our only hope in the Cross, then, 
God would conform us to the likeness of His Son ; and 
so, through sickness, trials, and afflictions, He brings us 
to meditate on His Death and Passion, to learn the value 
of all He suffered, and to feel sympathy with those 
sufferings, in all our own. i Though He was a Son, yet 
learned He obedience by the things which He suffered 
how much more then is it necessary for us ! 

" And should we not bless God for His Fatherly cor- 
rection of us, so gentle and loving ? and withal the pro- 
mise that He will not lay more on us than we can bear, 
but will give us strength according to our day ; for He 
will make His strength perfect in our weakness. With 
the earnest prayer that this affliction may be sanctified 
and blessed to your soul's good, both in this world and 
that to come, believe me, 

" Affectionately yours, 

" R. A. Suckling." 

n 2 



180 



MEMOIR OF THE 



About the same time he thus speaks of his own 
health to Mrs. Suckling : 

"Fe&. 1851. 

" For myself, though certainly better, yet I am far 
from well, which depresses me at times, for I should like 
to make up for the much time I have wasted in unprofit- 
able living. Yet God's will be done, and if ill health be 
my lot, I trust that God will sanctify it to my soul's 
good." 

This next letter, so exceedingly beautiful in 
itself, is also valuable as showing how real all the 
Scriptures were to him, as the guide of heart and 
life ; this gives a freshness and genuineness to his 
comments. 

To Miss * * *. 
" Bussage. March Hth, 1851. 

" My dear , 

" Believe me, it is a real pleasure to write to 
you ; and though I am rather poorly, I will endeavour to 
make a few remarks on your letter. 'The gifts and 
callings of God are without repentance.' No sin on our 
part can cancel our relationship ; we are still children, 
He still our Father, however black our sins may be. 
This is the ground of our confidence in approaching to 
Him. Esau's is no parallel case for us, (see note in 
' Christian Year,') but that of the Prodigal Son ; was it 
not the ground of his confidence ? This is the force of 
the passage in Ephesians I pointed out, but which loses 
its force by the division of the verse, ii. 4, 5, — 4 God, 
Who is rich in mercy, for His great love wherewith He 
loved us, even when we were dead in sins, (He Who so 



BEY. R. A. SUCKLING. 



181 



loved us,) hath quickened us together with Christ.' 
This thought runs through Isaiah, Jeremiah, especially 
the latter ; and the great condemnation of the people was, 
not the greatness of their sins, but that when His loving 
mercy offered pardon, they rejected it. See Isaiah i. 2, — 
'I have nourished and brought up children, and they 
have rebelled against Me;' and the promise, verse 18, 
' though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be/ &c, &c. 
See also Jeremiah viii. 6, in which God represents Him- 
self as a fond parent, listening for the confession of 
an erring child, that He may forgive ; and even when, 
through the stubbornness of their hearts, He is forced to 
punish them, He exclaims, (Hosea xi. 7,) ' They are bent 
to backsliding,' yet * how can I give them up ?' Just as 
the loving parent thinks of the days when his rebellious 
child was just learning to speak, calls up its pretty con- 
versations, &c, so the Almighty, verse 3, 1 1 taught 
Ephraim also to go, taking them by their arms, but they 
knew not that I healed them and again, (in vi. 4,) ' O, 
Ephraim, what shall I do unto thee ? O J^idah, what 
shall I do unto thee ?' And w r hen justice requires that 
they should be punished, yet God, in punishing them, 
seems, as the parent, to feel more the punishment than 
the child, — Jeremiah xii. 7, — i the dearly beloved of My 
soul !' O amazing words ! their iniquities had reached to 
heaven ! yet His love was greater, (xxxi. 3,) * an everlast- 
ing love.' And as David's soul longed to go forth to 
Absalom when punished, so their God, in the longings 
of His soul, pictured to Himself the words wherewith they 
would return and confess their sin, — 6 1 have surely heard 
Ephraim bemoaning himself thus.' (xxxi. 18.) ' Ever 
since he was banished, His (the eternal God's !) bowels 
yearned after him.' And see once more the loving en- 
treaty, (Hosea xiv. 1, &c.,) telling them the very words 



182 



MEMOIR OF THE 



to say, and promising, if they would confess, to pardon 

all, — ' I will heal their backsliding, I will love them 

freely ;' and then He would be as dew to their parched 

souls. Can anything exceed the love of God ? 

***### 

" God cannot deliver a soul that loves its sin. It was 
not the greatness of Israel's sin that separated between 
them and their God, but their cherishing their sin ; this 
alone separated. 

" From all this we learn that God's face is turned from 
such as love their sins ; but no shepherd's ear is so open 
to the bleating of his lost sheep, as the ear of Jesus is to 
the confession proceeding from a heart hating, or wishing, 
or desiring to hate its sin. It is music to His ears. Cry 
then to Him to seek and to save that which is lost ; for, 
alas ! though we can walk in sin alone, yet we cannot 
retrace one step without His help. Look to your own 
helplessness, sinfulness, and confess it ; but for one look 
at your own heart of sin, take a hundred at His face of 
love, full of mercy and compassion. (Micah vii. 18, 19 ; 
so Psalm ciii.) 

" See His face of love ever beaming on you ; keep 
yourself in it (S. Jude 21) ; and that you may do so, turn 
Ephesians iii. 14 to 19, into a prayer. And recollect we 
cannot love God of ourselves ; our hearts can only love 
Him by beholding His love, and basking in its rays. 
When the sun is near the earth, and shines on it, then 
the earth brings forth flowers and fruits ; when the sun 
is absent, it is winter ; the earth has no heat in itself. 
His love must shine down on us, and in it we must live ; 
we can only love God as we see His love. 0, then, 
beware of sin which clouds His love ! Pray, with David, 
that the heart from whence it comes may be recreated, 
made new, clean written in with His law, inclined to 



BEY. R. A. SUCKLING. 



183 



keep it, as it is prone to transgress it. May God bless 
you ever, my dear child ! 

" Affectionately yours, 

" E. A. S." 

" There is a probability of a diocesan ' house of mercy' 
being built here." 

To Miss . 

" Bussage. March 18, 1851. 
" But passing by this, I will now tell you something 
relating to myself. I believe God is about to grant me 
the desire of my heart. I have felt very low spirited for 
some time, on account of being obliged to give up the 
Workhouse, on account of the great distance I was from 
it." " A day or two after, I received a letter from Mr. 

A , of , asking me to attend a meeting of a 

committee at Gloucester, to forward his scheme for a 
Diocesan Penitentiary, which has the Bishop's sanction. 
I accordingly went, and then he said he wished it to be 
placed at Bussage, and me to be Chaplain : I joyfully 
consented." " Mr. A. considers the whole as settled, and 
after another committee meeting, I believe it will be 
proceeded with. It is to hold twenty-five inmates, be- 
sides matron, housekeeper, and rooms for 4 sisters,' who 
are not to be called so, for fear of giving offence : there 
will be a chapel. We calculate it will require £500 in 

annual subscriptions to keep it up. Mrs. has 

offered her services, and I trust God will bless and 
prosper our work. The object is to get the whole 
Diocese to take it up, free of party spirit, which we trust 
they will do, when they see our object is not to carry 
out any theory, but the real work itself for the love of 
souls. Will you thank for her note, and tell her this ? 



184 



MEMOIR OF THE 



" I am now looking for a Curate ; pray for me, that I 
may be directed aright in my choice. Mr. is build- 
ing a huge meeting-house on the back of his house : it 
does not trouble me. God will make all to work to- 
gether for good, and perhaps will defeat this scheme ere 
it be finished. God bless and be with you. 

" Ever yours, dear , 

"R. A. S." 

To the same. 
"Bussage. S. Mark's Day, 1851. 

" My dear 

" I can only write a hasty line just now, as we 
are so busy, in answer to your note. I am sorry for you 
.... and for our institution ; because, while many are 
willing to give themselves to such work as is appointed 
for you, few will offer themselves for such as this. 1 But, 

dear , we must remember that it is chosen for you ; 

we must not pray, God's will be done, and then kick 
against that will directly we know what it is. Doubtless, 
therefore, all is for the best : it cannot but be so, because 
it is ordered by One Who does all things well. 

" Our Institution prospers; we are sadly inconvenienced 
for a matron ; Mrs. sleeps there every night. 

" All kinds of reports are about our Institution already, 
— as to its being Romish. It cannot be helped ; truth 
must meet with opposition, so welcome to it ; the offence 
of the Cross has not ceased." 



1 This was written in allusion to a request he had made to 
her to whom it was addressed, that she would come and assist 
at the House of Refuge, for a time. Other work was ap- 
pointed for her, and she was obliged most reluctantly to refuse. 



KEY. R. A. SUCKLING. 



185 



The following letter was found among Mr. Suck- 
ling's papers, which serves to illustrate this period 
of his trials, and the state of his own mind. Some 
observations in it afford us an opportunity of de- 
fending him from a more serious charge than that 
of having changed his principles, viz. of being what 
is falsely called, of a " liberal " or " catholic mind." 
For the former might be from mistaken views of the 
truth, the latter would prove a want of love for it. 
But this is not a danger to which he would have 
been naturally liable, and he held too seriously and 
earnestly all the great articles of faith for anything 
of this kind ; for, of course, it would be morally 
impossible under such circumstances. 

There exists great confusion of thought in the 
present day on this subject, which strangely seems 
to identify charity, or the love of GrOD, with indif- 
ference to His truth, and the supporters of it. 
Whereas, as Aristotle has clearly shown, there is 
nothing which unites persons in love to each other 
so much as holding the same principles on any 
subject of momentous and practical interest, and 
if so with regard to things temporal, much more on 
matters of eternal import. It is the great social 
bond with which " the stranger intermeddleth not." 
This is a truth so deep in the very foundations of 
our nature as to be altered under no change of 
times and circumstances. To suppose any one to 
hold earnestly and savingly the principles of religion, 
and to be in this sense " catholic minded," is 
altogether a fallacy, it is purely impossible. And 



186 



MEMOIR OP THE 



it will be found as a matter of fact, that feelings of 
bitterness against opponents exist more strongly 
under this mask of liberality than with any other 
opinions, and this probably arises from the circum- 
stance that it is itself owing either to a want of 
deep thought, or of strength of principle, so that 
such persons have not in themselves what alone can 
ameliorate effectually the heart and temper. But 
there are two cases in which there may be appear- 
ances which the world takes for this, its own false 
Catholicism. Of course persons holding with regard 
to religious truth principles most broadly and eter- 
nally opposed, may under the pressure of temporal 
dangers, or some immediate and absorbing common 
interest, be associated together, so as apparently to 
forget those differences ; so for a season, when taken 
up with some earnest religious object of a practical 
nature, persons may seem for a time to be one ; not 
that their principles are changed, but that something 
else for a time takes the lead in their minds. 
There is also another cause wliich gives a colour to 
this erroneous conception and false language ; when 
the truth is held with that earnest and uncompromis- 
ing firmness which is called bigotry, yet true charity 
will invest with affection the persons of opponents, 
will put the best construction on their actions 
and intentions, hoping and, because it hopes, be- 
lieving all things favourable respecting them, 
often perceiving that differences of principles are 
more apparent than real, that the basis of truth on 
which both rest, is in fact one and the same ; and 



BEY. E. A. SUCKLING. 



187 



though it may often be mistaken in a kindly esti- 
mate of persons, yet relinquishing not for a moment 
its own attachment and fidelity to the principles of 
Divine Truth. Thus the warm sun of charity will 
dissipate many a cloud of misunderstanding : nor 
does divine charity itself ever shine from Heaven 
more beautiful and lovely than when it is thus 
scattering all those mists of prejudice in which 
our spirits are too prone to enshroud themselves, 
as if such clouds in which they dwell apart did but 
veil the comings and goings of celestial visitations, 
the very investitures of Deity, when they are in 
fact but the vapours raised around us by our own 
evil tempers, party-spirit, and selfishness. Some- 
thing of this glowing charity, it is believed, actuated 
our friend, and shed its warm beams on all around 
him. It burns with too pure and bright a flame in 
all his letters to be mistaken ; — that charity which 
signifies nothing else but the love of God, and of 
His truth, and of all His children. 

<f Bussage. May 3rd, 1851. 

* My dear Brother, 

" Excuse me if I answer your note very briefly, 
because I feel misinterpretations and unfounded suspicions 
are more readily removed by deeds than words, and time 
is too precious to waste in controversy. It must ever be 
one of the heaviest afflictions of the Cross, that even good 
men look with mistrust on our labours for Christ's sake. 
Believe me, I should abound with joy unutterable, could I 
feel that every work, and any work I have ever undertaken, 
was as truly God's work, or that I was as truly called to 



188 



MEMOIR OP THE 



it by His Holy Spirit, as I am to this. The steps that 
have led me to it are too providential for me to overlook 
without sin ; and I have desired and prayed to enter on 
it in that spirit of charity which thinketh no evil, but 
hopeth all things. Excuse me if I say your letter seems 
devoid of that, in that you prejudge and condemn the 
Institution because of its supposed results. Your con- 
clusions must all be very hastily formed. 

" The principle you lay down I cannot recognize as 
that of the Gospel, — that if we cannot in all points agree 
with our brethren in the same Church and ministry, 
therefore we are to have no fellowship with them, even 
in works of mercy : ' he followeth not us ' seems to have 
part in such objection. I need not remind you that S. 
Paul ever rejoiced, that any way Christ was preached, 
even though of strife and envy. Indeed it grieves me to 
say I can see nothing in your objection but what is of the 
world. Of the origin of the Institution I know nothing, 
saving that those commencing it submitted it to the 
Bishop for his sanction, and thought such institutions 
had best be in retired country parishes, rather than 
towns. It is not in opposition to the one at Gloucester; 
I have met the Chaplain of that, and Gloucester Clergy, 
for the furtherance of this. I called it diocesan, only as 
implying that it is more especially open to this diocese. 

Mrs. ■ r has the superintendence of the Refuge ; the 

matron comes from the Servant's Royal Provident and 
Benevolent Society, her assistant from the Magdalene. 
These people are all chosen by myself ; and in no case 
have I seen any desire to carry it out in a party spirit : 
even the name of ' penitentiary ' has been changed, at my 
request, to * refuge,' because I heard a farmer in the 
neighbourhood, not knowing the meaning of the word, 
had turned to Johnson's dictionary, and found it there 



KEY. B. A. SUCKLING. 



189 



defined as a place for doing penance. That the world 
scoffs at us and condemns us, I know, and value it as 
marks of the Cross, and proof the work is displeasing 
to its king ; but I pray God you, and those whose opinion 
is worth heeding, will not join them in condemning us ere 
we have done anything worthy of condemnation, (for its 
existence is but of eight days.) It makes me sad to learn 
from you that this is already done ; but in the spirit of 
love let me urge you rather to commend it to God in 
prayer. If it be not of Him, it will not prosper : let this 
be your comfort. I do not attempt to meet the terms 
you apply to it ; I leave that for its fruits to show ; and if 
God therein makes me an instrument of good for the 
salvation of souls, I willingly and thankfully bear all 
misunderstandings. 

" As, however, you mention Mr. , I will add he is 

a personal friend, with whom I have often held sweet 
counsel, from whose eyes I have often seen tears flow, as 
we have spoken together of this blessed work for reclaim- 
ing sinners. Alas ! must I throw in my lot with him, 
and take the opprobrious term by which you call him to 
myself ? 

" 's objection about the flowers I must pass by ; 

I had hoped he had come to Church in a better spirit : 
they adorn the Church but twice a year, and are the 
offering of parishioners who love to deck the building. 
The custom is as harmless as it is beautiful ; it would be 
giving undue importance to such trivial things to take 
further notice of it. 

" And now I trust I have said nothing otherwise than 
I should. My heart's desire is to live in the spirit of 
love, which hideth a multitude of sins ; and my hope is, 
that when this world of sorrow shall have passed away, 
and the eyes are purged, we may find that, though the 



190 



MEMOIR OP THE 



earth was too small to hold them, yet one heaven can 
contain Dr. Pusey and Mr. Close. Massillon, Chalmers, 
Bourdalou, and D'Aubigne, Mr. Cheyne and Robert 
Anderson, and many others who, though now fighting 
the same battle, yet feel constrained to stand aloof one 
from the other. 

" Yours in our blessed Lord, 

" R. A. Suckling." 

To the Rev. I W . 

" Bussage. May 12, 1851. 

"My dear Mr. W , 

" I reply at once to your kind sympathizing note, 
with what little information I can send. Our temporary 
house is (or was) Kirby's cottage ; it has been fitted up 
free of expense to the Institution, and really does admi- 
rably. We have five inmates, four of whom I have known 
for this year past in the Workhouse. They have under- 
gone there the most trying ordeal, and look on this 
place, on account of its quietness, rest, and above all of 
the sympathy which they meet with, as heaven ori earth. 
I think all cases drafted from the Workhouse likely to 
prove the most satisfactory ; for this purpose I propose, 
with the present Chaplain's consent, to keep up my con- 
nection with the 1 black ward,' in order to have an eye 
on the inmates. But my fears are that the guardians 
will forbid my visits there, on account of the bad name 
we are getting. In that ' ward,' there are generally six 
or eight, or more prostitutes; some come in sicknes-, 
and disgusted, and then their old habits prevail, and they 
go back again. So they go on, ' out and in.' I have 
known one girl in four times in six months, each time 
vowing to go back to sin no more. It is from numbers 



RET. E. A. SUCKLING. 



191 



like these, and from intimate knowledge of their charac- 
ters, that I have chosen four, — three most real penitents, 
the other very promising. One poor girl, (only 22,) her 
history is sad — driven from home by a step-mother ; 
twice she was in the Workhouse, each time refusing to 
listen to me ; hoping soon to get well, that she might be 
rid of my visits ; refusing to pray. However, it pleased 
God to lay a very heavy sickness on her for near three 
months, during which time she was shamefully neg- 
lected, (not having sufficient food given her when she 
was recovering,) all of which she bore very patiently, 
praying most earnestly for mercy ; and the end is she is 
now with us, as I have said, most truly penitent. She is 
now ill, suffering from the want of proper nourishment, 
being reduced to a mere skeleton ; and I doubt whether 

she ever will recover it. Mrs. , who used to go with 

me, would take her jelly and nourishing things, which 
she ate by stealth, and which humanly speaking, enabled 
us to bring her out alive. I hope, please God, in a few 
days to administer the Holy Communion to her. It is 
wonderful how her mind opens out to understand the 
Scriptures : thus one day, speaking to her on the Lord's 
Supper for the first time, she seemed fully to have 
entered into all its deep significance, by the help of the 
Catechism, which comes back to her mind with wonderful 
freshness. All the severe pain she has suffered she quite 
of herself puts a true value on ; telling me it was neces- 
sary for her, for otherwise she never could have known 
the value of her Saviour's sufferings for her sins. She 
was most anxious last week to see her father, and ask 
his forgiveness, and to forgive him. I sent for him, to 
all appearance a hardened sinner, careless what had be- 
come of a child he has so grievously wronged ; but when 
he saw her wasted form, and heard her ask forgiveness, 



192 



MEMOIR OF THE 



as if conscience-struck that that was his part, he burst 
into tears, and left, to all appearance, broken-hearted. 
This is the first fruits of our Institution, and what thanks 
can we render unto God for it ! Without it she must 
have died ere this, in all the desolation and desertion of 
a workhouse, feeling herself an utter outcast from heaven 
and earth alike ; but God seems to have spoken of her 
end, and of others too, I trust, Jer. xxx. 17. 

" I have dwelt upon her case, because I do not 
think she will ever leave the walls of the Institution, but 
will there die ; the first fruits under God of, I trust, a 
rich harvest of neglected souls ! The fifth person is paid 
for by her friends ; she comes from the Magdalene in 
London. She devotes herself to the others for love, and 
they love her. Another comes this week, (to be paid 
for,) who I hope will be the same. I feel with you, such 
institutions will only do good, as long as earnest personal 
endeavours are not wanting. There are so many provi- 
dential circumstances connected with my occupying the 
place I do in it, that I must believe that God's blessing 

will be with me, as I doubt not it is with Mrs. , 

whose self-devotion cannot be too highly spoken of. 
From without we are meeting great opposition, which is 
a sure sign of God's favour, and necessary to check any 
undue feeling of success, and to prepare for disappoint- 
ments hereafter. 

" "We have all been laid up with severe attacks of in- 
fluenza ; our two youngest children have been very ill, 
and there is much sickness. You may recollect Mr. 
S ; he died yesterday of it. 

" I am much in want of a Curate, should you hear of 

one. I had an application from a Mr. , who referred 

to you, which, however, I did not entertain, — perhaps 
unwisely. 



REV. E. A. SUCKLING. 



193 



"With our united kind regards to Mrs. W. and 
yourself, 

" Believe me, very sincerely yours, 

"H. Suckling." 

The Text in the Prophet Jeremiah referred to in 
this letter, is most happy in its application, and 
might serve as a motto for such Institutions in our 
time. And surely the single instance which he 
details as a brand plucked from the burning, would 
richly compensate for a whole life and fortune 
thus devoted. "Who can read his account without 
emotion ? 



The next letter, to his Curate, is of much in- 
terest as giving his own account of the management 
of his parish, of his principles, and reasons for the 
adaptation of those principles to the peculiar wants 
of his people ; such traces of meekness and gentle- 
ness one would have found it impossible to have 
conveyed by any description, as they are incidentally 
disclosed by his own letter. It is moreover im- 
pressive as addressed to one who comes so soon 
afterwards into a mournful and affecting connection 
with his own last offices of love. 

To the Rev. H. H. V-— — . 

"Bussage. June 14th, 1851. 

" My dear Sir, 

" I propose (d. v.) leaving home for Clifton on 
Monday. Had time allowed, or rather my health, I 
should say, I should have entered more fully into my 
o 



194 



ME^IOIE OF THE 



method of proceeding here. I will now, therefore, men- 
tion one or two things which may seem irregularities, — 
such as having a midnight service, with Holy Communion, 
on Xew Year's Eve ; the Holy Communion after evening 
prayer on the Eve of Ascension Day, All Saints, and the 
night of Maundy Thursday, and that because, on account 
of their work, the people could attend at no other time. 
Another point concerns the off-lying hamlet I spoke 
about : not knowing how to reach the people, I hired a 
cottage, in which I preached extempore once a week, 
having a Collect or two before and after the sermon. I 
saw no other way of reaching the people, and they came 
to Church better for it. I have discontinued this for the 
last six months, partly on account of my health ; and now 
only keep on the cottage, to see whether you would like 
to do as I have done. I do not express any wish about 
it, but leave it entirely to your wishes ; if you desire to 
try it, I shall think it best ; if you do not, I shall think it 
best also. It may be that a catechetical lecture for the 
young might do better, for the people are very ignorant. 

" I mentioned the nature of the flock, or rather the 
circumstances. I have been very careful — it may be too 
careful — not to hurt their prejudices, but to build upon 
what truth they did hold ; and I place the measure of 
success God has granted me among them, to my endea- 
vours to find out what they did hold, and then in my 
sermons building on that. I did not tell you the provi- 
dential circumstances connected with the consecration of 
the Church; it was just at the time that there was a 
drunken minister at the neighbouring Baptist Chapel, 
whom they could not get rid of, so that many of the 
better Dissenters, in disgust, came to Church until a 
better state of things should be established. However, 
before it was so, they nearly all joined the Church. How 



BET. R. A. SUCKLIKG. 



195 



I lost one family, by the injudicious sermon of one 
Clergyman, I have told you. Now, you see, there is an 
effort being made by the Dissenters to recover their lost 
ground, by building a chapel. 

" Two years ago I should have feared for many of my 
flock, but now, thank God, I fear no ill consequences, 
but rather good ; because that chapel will preach to them 
better than I have dared to do on the spirit of Dissent, 

" I consequence of this state of my flock, I established 
a sermon on Wednesday evenings, in which (extempore) 
I have explained the Prayer Book and occasional services, 
and went through all Scripture characters. I could 
reach them in no other way, for they could not read, and 
so the Wednesday evening sermon became the literature 
of the parish ; it supplied the place to them of books, 
and periodicals to the educated. 

" This has been my course, very imperfectly fulfilled, 
alias ! yet amid many shortcomings, I believe it has been 
blessed. 

" You will find much that has been left undone, and 
much that might have been better done, and great room 
for building up. 

" It has indeed been a missionary work, my first work 
being to baptize nearly all the children, and many adults 
in course of time. 

" Do not form too favourable an opinion of the flock, 
but look on them as those still needing milk rather than 
strong meat, though this would not have been the case 
with a more skilful teacher. You will, however, find 
them confiding, loving, and teachable, as soon as they 
see you come not among them as a gentleman, but as 
one earnestly desiring their spiritual good. 

" Believe me, very sincerely yours, 

"R. A. Suckling." 

o 2 



196 



MEMOIR OF THE 



And now every thing connected with our friend 
assumes a solemn impressiveness for reasons which 
will be hereafter more fully mentioned, but occa- 
sionally in these letters, and more especially in the 
sermons written about this time, the reader will 
perceive something of that felt, but indescribable 
calm, which steals over the mind as the shades as- 
sume their sober yet beautiful tint in the quiet 
waning away of the parting day or declining year, 
yet mixed ever and anon with bright flashing lights 
and gleams ; as if everything yet was to stay and 
continue ; and it may be, that after prognostications 
of departure and decay, another short bright sum- 
mer breaks in for a while and lights up the au- 
tumnal year ; and in like manner, gleams brighten 
and birds open their fuller notes again, ere the day 
is overtaken with its close ; such as might lead one 
to forget for awhile that it is so soon to be among 
the things that are seen no more. 

To Miss . 

" 30, York Crescent, Bristol. 
"June 19th, 1851. 

" My dear , 

"I am just beginning to feel the benefit of 
change, and I trust get strength every day, though I am 

very weak still It is a great trial to me to leave 

home just now, leaving the inmates of the House of Re- 
fuge without a Chaplain at this critical time, and for so 
long a period ; but God does nothing amiss, and I pray 
this visitation may fit me more for my office and work. 



BEY. E. A. STJCKLIKG. 



197 



"I have at last got a Curate, who comes this week. 
We have had many deaths of late in Bussage in a short 

time ; Mr. S , B. F , our nurse, and J— R , 

and much sickness, but I am spared ! Pray for me, for 
I much need your prayers. You also have not been so 
well of late ; may God so sanctify your affliction, that 
you be made partaker of His holiness, and fitted for the 
Church above, where all is peace and rest. O to be 
fitted for it, and then taken away from the evil to come, 
— what a blessed lot t 

" Give my kind love to dear — — ; I will write soon, 
but am not equal to much yet. May God bless and 
preserve you both ! my blessing with you. 

" Affectionately yours in the Lord, 

"R. A. S> 

To Mrs. P , he writes, June 20 and 21, 

1851. 

" I understood the oratory was to open from the class- 
room ; or rather, might be enlarged by its addition. We 
want to raise a spirit of reverence in the penitents' minds, 
and also to have a place where they may retire for private 
prayer and meditation ; but this we cannot expect, if the 
chapel itself will soon be built. I can report very favour- 
ably of myself ; I think I get stronger every day, and if 
nothing unforeseen occurs, hope to return this day week 
for Sunday. 

"My thoughts are much at the House of Refuge 
(which I wish was a house of penitence) and its inmates ; 
tell them that, though absent, yet I do not forget them 
before the Throne of Grace, and trust I may return home 
better fitted to minister to them. 

" I trust you are pretty well, and that does not 



198 



MEMOIR OF THE 



cause you more anxiety than usual. Our crosses are all 
different, but suited to us ; and we must take them up 
and bear them cheerfully after our Divine Pattern." 

To Miss * * *. 

" July 1, 1851. 

" Our work here goes on very blessedly. We meet 
with much opposition and suspicion, but have abundant 
tokens of God's being with us : it is indeed a most blessed 
work. O that I may have strength and grace to direct 
souls aright P* 

In the ensuing extracts we have indeed but 
little of those calm and heavenly reflections over- 
flowing from a peaceful heart, which render some 
of the former letters so valuable — sounds and har- 
monies of such sweet peace, as from a soul at rest 
in God amidst the 'unquiet world, as refreshing 
draughts of those fountains which the Cross has 
sweetened in a dry desert. But they serve to 
furnish us with his history as it now hastens to its 
end, and as such no one will regret their insertion. 

To Miss . 

" Bussage. July \6th 9 1851. 

u My dear , 

" I have for so long wished to write to you, and 
fear you will wonder at my silence ; the truth is, that 
though quite well now, yet I have not recovered my 
strength, and am easily tired, and so not fit to do much, 
and that little I can do is in the parish and at the House. 
We admitted two Penitents to Holy Communion last 
Sunday— it was a blessed sight—and shall (d. V.) baptize 



EEV. E. A. STJCKLIKa. 



199 



two (E. H. one) next week. We are about to enlarge 
the present House, at once, and wait to build. Our es- 
tablishment will ultimately consist of Lady Superintend- 
ent, two ' sisters,' and three (penitents) who will be called 
assistants — Matron, and twenty-five Penitents. I want 
to meet with one lady at once. 

" I trust dear gives you no fresh cause for alarm. 

I had such a nice note from her : will you give my love 
to her, and say how we are going on ? Do you hear of 
Shoreham School ever ? as I am thinking of sending R. 
there. This is all I can write now; I know you will 
prefer this scrawl to nothing. 

" Ever yours, dear , 

" R. A. S." 

To the same. 
" Gloucester. July 21st, 1851. 

" My dear , 

" I have a few minutes to spare before attend- 
ing a Committee-meeting here, so I write you a line of 
thanks for your kind note received on my birthday, and 
for the kind — and I am sure heartfelt — wishes contained 

therein. It is refreshing for you to write thus, dear , 

amid so much bustle and worldliness. I believe we shall 
forthwith commence adding to our temporary house, so 
as to enable us to receive twenty Penitents at once. Our 
work prospers, and is intensely interesting : all . are peni- 
tent. I admitted two on Sunday week to the Holy Com- 
munion ; poor girls ! I envied them their deep penitence 
and sorrow. One of them, who had been in a higher 
rank of life, trembled so, (and both shed tears,) that Mrs, 
P. had to support her to and from the altar-rails. On 
Friday, I baptize two more. As I said to you, we want 
another lady sadly. One has since offered herself, but 



200 



MEMOIR OF THE 



whether she is qualified I know not ; it requires one in 

a thousand to undertake such a work. 

**#**♦♦ 

" I have continued very weak indeed, but fancy the 
last day or two I have gained strength." 

About the same period occurs, in a letter to Mrs. 
Suckling, the following passage : 

"August 4, 1851. 
" How I wish I was with you, enjoying the sea breezes ; 
but alas ! it cannot be. I should so much like to be with 
the children on the sea-beach — I cannot tell you how 
much ; but then I look at what is to be done here, espe- 
cially at the House of Refuge, and I dare not leave. We 
must look for rest above. O that we may be prepared 
for it when our summons comes ! We begin to-day to 
enlarge the House of Refuge. We have a new girl from 

. She rang at the door of , and asked them to 

take her in, which they did, and brought her here." 

To Miss -. 

" Bussage. August 12th, 1851. 

" My dear , 

"lam very sorry to hear of the trial you have 
had .... I assure you of my prayers. In your case, 
and in every case, can we not look back, and see how 
every trial has worked together for good ? Trust His 
daily work of wonder, and all will be well. We are in 
want sadly of one lady at once, especially now building 

is being proceeded with. Mrs. is everything, but 

we want some one on the spot, — some lady, I mean, 
especially to sleep there : will you pray that God will 



RET. E. A, SUCKLING. 



201 



guide us to one, or one to us ? we shall want three or 
four hereafter. I am not very strong, but I do not like 
to leave the parish now, there is so much sickness and 
death, both scarlet and typhus fever ; we have already 
had twelve deaths this year. 

" I wanted to write to tell you about E. M.'s death, as 
you took such a kind interest in her. I trust in God's 
mercy she was prepared for so great and sudden a 
change ; there was a marked difference of late in her 
conduct, and lately she wrote to me really beautiful let- 
ters. She was one whom I watched over, prayed for, 
and for whom I have shed many tears, not in vain, some- 
thing whispers to me; and I cannot but believe that, 
because her time was short, I was providentially drawn 
to do so by Him, Whose one work is to see the travail of 
His soul, and in the sight of the returning prodigal is 
satisfied. 

"I send you three of her letters to read, one (June 
22nd) written but one week before she was taken ill. It 
is a comfort to know that she, poor girl, could not have 
written what she did not feel. 

" I witnessed last night a heart-rending scene. Her 
sister R., who has led a sad life, is ill with fever, and 
(having seen her in the morning) she again sent for me in 
the evening, in an agony of mind, to pray for her. As I 
was about to kneel, she begged I would call her child 
up, saying to it when it came, ' 0, child, pray for me, a 
wretched sinner! 0, my child, do not be like your 
mother, — be like your Aunt Betsey !' I could only look 
on in silence at the mighty working of conscience, as she 
exclaimed, 6 1 am an outcast, an outcast!' Yet the hope 
rises, E.'s death may be her life — God grant it ! 

" Please return E.'s letters when you visit us again — 
in God's mercy, I trust soon. You will find the church- 



202 



MEMOIR OF THE 



yard much fuller. I sometimes think my own time is 
short ; O to be prepared for the summons when it comes ! 
Yesterday, a person confessed (on a bed of sickness) a 
sin, which they said had weighed on their minds, night 
and day, for nearly forty years. I hope God will give me 
strength to improve this visitation for the good of souls. 

" Mrs. S. is absent with three children at the sea-side. 
... I am alone. I should enjoy a rest with my children 
by the sea-side, watching their opening minds; but I 
dare not take it now, weak though I am : it would seem 
like loving wife and children more than Christ. I must 
look for rest above, for now the time is short. 

" I cannot but hope that, when you go into , you 

will .stay here with for a short time; I should so 

much like to see you both again. Mrs. gave me a 

very nice book the other day, ' Companions of my Soli- 
tude,' — have you seen it? I had intended filling the 
other side of the paper, but I have been interrupted 
by some one on business. God bless and be with you, 
dear . 

" Ever yours, 

" R. A. S." 

It is curious to notice how the foregoing letter 
is interwoven with circumstances and expressions 
that are now seen to have a bearing on his own 
case. " There was a marked difference of late," 
" I cannot but believe that because her time was 
short I was providentially drawn " to pray for her. 
" It is a comfort to know, she could not have written 
what she did not feel." And then how does the 
very subject give rise to thoughts of his own de- 
parture with which in tke sequel it became so asso- 



EEV. E. A. SUCKLING. 



eiated. They were both warnings to each other ; 
he to her, and she to him, seem as if divinely 
brought to teach the wisdom of death. 

To Miss . 

"Bussage. Sept. 24th, 1851. 

" My dear , 

" Thank you for copying out the papers for me. 
I have received at present £34. You asked me about 
books — I think you cannot do better than read S. Augus- 
tine's homilies on the New Testament ; they are beautiful. 
I know the Life of James Davies, and wish there was a 
cheap edition for circulation among the poor. Have you 
read Leighton yet ? some parts — i. e. much — of Baxter's 
' Saints' Rest ' is beautiful. Monro's Preface to the 
second edition of Parochial Work is worth your reading, 
.... Our Anniversary is to be kept on Monday, the 

8th, this year. Mr. P preaches in the morning, and 

Mr. A in the evening. I wish you could be here ; 

I fear the lady who wished to come and help us is 
shrinking back. ... I have written a letter of remon- 
strance, and am waiting the result. Mr. V , the 

Chaplain at Wantage, has been staying with me for a 
day ; I like him very much, and their plan for ' Exterior 
Sisters.' I intend to adopt it, and enclose you the paper 
to copy me out one dozen of Exterior rules only. Would 
you like to join us ? it only requires an assent, and con- 
forming to the rules, without any form of admission. I 

should think it is nothing that would disapprove ; 

but act as you think best. ... If you feel for the pre- 
sent you may not join us, which perhaps may be more 
prudent, will you use the prayer ?" 

In the next letter there is mention of his having 



204 



MEMOIR OF THE 



been to preach an Anniversary Sermon at Kemer- 
ton, the Editor, having heard from more than one 
source of this Sermon as being striking in itself, 
and remarkable as prophetical of his approaching 
death, made inquiries for it, to which he has re- 
ceived the following answer :' 

. "Mr. Suckling," says his correspondent, "stopped 
here in his way home, and while talking to me, took the 
Sermon out of his pocket, and put it in the fire ; nor 
would he allow me to rescue it. I have been the unwill- 
ing witness of such an end of many a beautiful Sermon. 
I have thought sometimes that, when any of his sermons 
were much praised, he made it a sort of exercise to him- 
self to destroy them ; such was his dread or dislike of 
praise," 

To Miss — . 

(i Bussage. Oct. 29th, 1851. 

" My dear , 

" I am always full of excuses for not writing 
you longer letters. ... I am happy to say, that though 
still very busy, my head is better, and allows me to do so. 

I have thought of dear , as I know her thoughts 

would be here on yesterday's feast. Last week I went to 
Kemerton, and preached an Anniversary Sermon. 

" Sunday I have to preach three times here, as Mr. V, 
has two children dangerously ill. Mrs. P. has sat up 
four nights running, and I one and a half, also Mrs. S. 
Our children are better, though A. M. continues poorly. 

Your account of Miss is very interesting indeed. We 

have again a prospect of two ladies to help us . . . will 
you and dear pray that they may be directed aright ? 



BEY. E. A. SUCKLING. 



205 



if Thank you for the neatly-copied rules, I almost think 

now we must change our plans, and not have ' exterior.' 

I fear it will not answer on trial. Our wish was that they 

should come and help occasionally ; one has tried, but 

we find it created great discomfort in the ' House '—the 

sight of a stranger — so that for the present we propose 

delaying this plan for consideration : the penitents feel 

so ashamed at seeing strangers. We have got nearly 

£90 by the appeal, and I intend beginning to build at 

once, if possible. We meet with great opposition in the 

neighbourhood : it is already rumoured in Stroud that 

we have a Sisterhood here, though we have none ; so, 

when our Institution is formed, I can't think what it will 

be magnified into there. 

* # # # * # 

" Good-bye now ; God bless, preserve, and keep you 
both. 

" Ever yours, in our Lord, 

" R. A. S." 

It will be observed that this adieu must have been 
the last to this correspondent, as the letter was 
written but a few days before his death ; and the 
next following is still more striking as written 
when his last sickness was even now upon him. 

To the Rev. T. A. P. 

" Bussage. Eve of All Saints. 

" My dear P , 

" Amen to your prayer for poor Mr. V ! 

This day week saw his family in good health ; last night 
closed in with the death of his two children, the youngest 
in the morning, and the eldest in the evening. This 



206 



MEMOIR OF THE 



heavy blow has prostrated both. Mrs. V is wearied 

out with continual nursing, but bears her trial with the 
resignation of a Christian. You, who have known trial, 
will pray for her and him in this heavy visitation. 

" Mrs. Suckling and myself have been with them these 
last few days almost night and day ; now we have done 
all that human aid can do ; One alone can comfort, the 
Man of every heart's sorrow. 

"I shall hope to be with you on Monday week, to start 
the next morning. I think I wrote to you about the 
Bible ; we are both much pleased. Mrs. Suckling in- 
tended to write, but our children and this late heavy trial 
have entirely occupied her time; they are all better 
but A. M. 

" How I wish I could be with you to-morrow ! What 
a blessed day it is ! full of holy heavenly associations ; it 
is the festival of all festivals, saving those which imme- 
diately refer to our Blessed Lord, which I love the most ; 
and year by year, as loved ones are housed from the 
coming tempest, it seems to deepen on me. If we had 
not hope, that anchor of the soul, reaching within the 
vail, we must needs be cast down when we see how near 
sinking the Church is amid the billows of the world ; but 
with that we can ride calmly through them all. This 
tumult, — this noise of voices raised against us, — this ob- 
loquy cast upon us, — what is it, but the loud blowing and 
howling of the wind, which drives us faster to the haven 
where we would be ? Cheer up, then, and do not think 
all lost ; there are seven thousand yet left, — help with 
them to guide the Church aright through the coming 
storm. I could not but fear that I detected in your 
mind, when here, a worm secretly at work undermining 
hope, which alone can make you labour on with the 
soul's whole energy. I can most truly reciprocate the 



BEY. B. A. SUCKLING. 



207 



pleasure of meeting ; you gave us all an impetus when 
here, and cheered many hearts. Now God be with you, 
and give you grace to labour on in the good work you 
have begun. 

" Your affectionate friend, 

" R. A. Suckling." 

This letter inclosed the Tract " Her sun hath 
gone down while it was yet day." 



The circumstances which attended his departure 
from this our world of sight, were remarkable from 
the singular indications of that Divine Providence 
which after that sick bed on the coast of Africa had 
been so long preparing him, and now gently and 
lovingly seemed inviting him with tender approaches 
to his end. First of all by indistinct intimations 
from within wmich whispered to him that his life 
was drawing to a close, and quickened his aspira- 
tions after that rest. Perhaps some latent giving 
w r ay of the earthly tabernacle let in the light from 
the Unseen, which came upon his secret spirit. 
He had for half a year spoken to Mrs. Suckling of 
this his expectation of his approaching death, and 
prepared her for it. On a lady, the companion of 
his labours in the Penitentiary, he had impressed 
the same conviction. In a letter to another, dated 
August 12, 1851, he says : 

" I sometimes think my own time will be short. O to 
be prepared for the summons when it comes !" 



208 



MEMOIR OF THE 



And again, 

" 1 must look for rest above, for now the time is 
short." 

In another letter of June 19th, 1851, in speaking 
of " the Church which is above, where all is peace 
and rest," he breaks out into the fervent wish, 

"0 to be fitted for it, and then taken away from the 
evil to come — what a blessed lot !" 

But more than all, surely never did any one yet 
take his leave of the world in language more elo- 
quent, more sublime and affecting, than in the 
latter part of his sermon on " Things Unseen and 
Eternal," which under this anticipation he wrote 
but two months before his death. "With something 
of more than human presentiment sound the words : 

" It is coming rapidly towards me — soon it will be my 
turn to die. All this I know. Farewell, vain world! 
O come the day when this weary flesh shall sleep in the 
dust!" 

no 9<rmoo am isrtl Jnsmnnegeiq £ B7sa OS Mtttm^wt 
It was felt at the time of its delivery to be pro- 
phetical of his end ; as was also that sermon some 
weeks after at Kemerton. "Whether Providence 
was pleased to afford him these gracious indications 
of his coming change by any sensible sinking of the 
body, or by impressions on his spirit, or by both of 
these simultaneously, it matters not, nor is it for us 
to distinguish between the two, or to describe the 



BEV. It. A. SUCKLING. 



209 



mode of those secret operations whereby God is 
pleased to communicate with man. 

But more gracious still, and not less marked, 
were the gentle leadings of the good Spirit in those 
devotional preparations of the heart which are from 
the Lord ; one who had constant access at all times 
to his study, says, " For the last six months of his 
life I never found him otherwise than on his knees 
in prayer." To the same effect is the testimony of 
a friend writing to myself. 

" The latter part of his life was one long prayer. He 
could not study ; he could not waste time in careless 
reading. I believe he spent hours daily in intercession 
for his little flock, whose every care was his care. His 
whole heart was set upon them." 

" My last interview with him," he adds, " made a very 
deep impression on me ; he seemed so unearthly, so ab- 
sorbed in heavenly thoughts. His conversation was so 
deep, and unusually full : he seemed so unable to come 
down into the lower regions of controversy and the like. 
There was something very unusually solemn in the ad- 
ministration of the Holy Communion on the Sunday; and 
he seemed to have a presentiment that his course on 
earth w 7 as nearly run." 

This must have been but about one or two weeks 
before his death. The same clergyman, one of his 
oldest friends, writing to a lady at Bussage on 
hearing of his death, says, 

" Yet I do not feel surprised : your words so haunted 
me, that when I shook hands with our beloved friend at 
P 



210 



MEMOIE OF THE 



the gate, I turned and looked on him as for the last 

time." i il .g-taiaa UA.^o LsTitesI sift noii 
"You remember my speaking of the obvious maturing 
of his spirit. Often in my late visit there was a feeling 
of something final in his remarks ; he seemed so calmly 
ready to depart " j i^uoiaj .91977 

In this letter allusion is made to what the lady 
had herself expressed, it was this conviction or 
presentiment which Mr. Suckling had impressed 
her with. 

ssrinr 911 tadi yah isffr 079 7^97 no s£w *I 
" At one time/' she says, " he never mentioned any 
future arrangement at the House of Mercy, or elsewhere, 
without alluding to the uncertainty of his being here to 
carry it out ; but for the last few weeks he had so much 
discontinued this, that I had hoped the presentiment had 
left him. But it was not so ; for I found that on the last 
Thursday of his life, he had in his affectionate manner 
expressed the same to one of the Penitents, — 1 1 some- 
times think, , that my time on earth will be very 

short.' " 

?Aai£3 HA lo lB7ite9l teifr bA ^oSmfiS ratted ban 
That purifying and preparing of his spirit for its 
departure, which for the last few months of his life 
pervaded and penetrated the whole man, which 
impressed his friends and broke forth in his letters 
and sermons, was not unnoticed by the poor s in 
their forcible mode of expression they said, "He 
has too much of Heaven in his eye to be long on 
ts®¥b.M l ns\mq ni emti 9moe gmuniiiioo isHn bas 
But more than all remarkable was the manner in 
which these tokens of a gracious guiding Presence 



KEY. E. A. SUCKLING. 



211 



seemed to gather as to their crown and consumma- 
tion at the Festival of All Saints. It is this day 
beyond all others that one would naturally connect 
with his gentle spirit and character ; this was, as it 
were, throughout his own day, all his longings were 
to increase on earth, and to be joined hereafter with 
that Communion of Saints ; and earnest aspirations 
for that rest was the subject to which his heart ever 
turned. One of the most striking of his sermons, 
which happily is preserved to us, is on that Festival. 
It was on the very eve of that day that he writes 
in his last letter, ifa *\9mL 

? 9i9ifw3al9 10 t yoi9M lo 9ai/oH 9^ J insmd^aBTtB Biuiui 
" The festival of all festivals, saving those which imme- 
diately refer to our blessed Lord, which I love the most ; 
aud year by year, as loved ones are housed from the 
coming tempest, it seems to deepen on me." 

And thus by an unseen Hand was he drawn by 
tender cords constraining, and binding to that last 
altar of human suffering which unites it to a higher 
and better Sacrifice. As that Festival of All Saints 
now approached, it found him at the bed of two dying 
children in nightly and daily watching, and on the 
eve of that day, when the hand of death was already 
upon him, after writing that last letter to his friend 
alluded to, he performed the service in his church 
and preached a sermon ; he was up early on the 
following morning, Saturday, the Day of All Saints, 
and after continuing some time in prayer, he went 
forth for the celebration of the early Communion 
at his church ; and then, thus strengthened and re- 
p 2 



212 



MEMOIR OF THE 



freshed from the Altar of God, he went home, — 
to face that King of Terrors on whom he had looked 
face to face on the coast of Africa many years be- 
fore, and now, hut, 0, with what altered circum- 
stances to encounter him ! 

Soon after he returned from church he was taken 
with great pain from some attack of internal inflam- 
mation, and continued writhing in agony at full 
length on the floor. His bodily sufferings for the 
next two clays, and until his spirit was released from 
the body, were very great. Every thing respecting 
such a person must be of sacred and touching 
interest, and full of impressive matter for serious 
contemplation ; amid these painful and distressing 
scenes of bodily suffering, incidents assume impor- 
tance we know not how great in one who had so 
lived by faith and realized the Unseen. In the de- 
tailed account which is given of these his last 
agonies, two circumstances are mentioned which 
the writer has heard with the deepest interest as 
speaking from his death-bed, inasmuch as like so 
many things that preceded it they become con- 
nected with his character, and with what Scripture 

In the description of his death, amidst the 
prayers and expressions of affection which i&$ffijr> 
paaiie4hi^ 

-bod eid is gnrprcq smr ed nodw orfw t noriom93[ 
" He was now very much exhausted, at times could 
hardly speak, and occasionally wandered. Several times 
he fancied he saw little children about his room andf,^ 



REV. E. A. SUCKLING. 



213 



his bed, and asked me what they were doing, and who 
they were." 

-ad aTB^j \a&m xjohlA tesoo odi no eodi o$ sofil 

These his remarks are mentioned as mere matter 
of fact without comment or reflection ; and they 
may be naturally accounted for that the last scenes 
of health should haunt the visions of the sick, and 
mingle with their dreaming thoughts ; yet even 
were it to be allowed that it was no more than 
such, yet this does not do away with the remark- 
able force of the Divine language, for this was the 
saying of one of a singularly child-loving and child- 
like spirit when he was now on the borders of that 
kingdom of such -as they. Nay more, we have seen 
that his last labours of love were in tending on the 
sick bed of two infants, which were now waiting 
for him their pastor to deposit their bodies in the 
grave, and for this he expressed a longing wish in 
this his last illness, that he might be so raised up 
as to be enabled to bury them. And which of 
his flock that are departed to be with Chetst, 
would be the first to welcome him into that world 
of spirits, into which he was now fast departing 
but these little ones ? and what more associated on 
earth with the remembrance of him than such in- 
fants ? we need but call to mind that incident of the 
dying boy, recorded in his letter to a School-girl at 
Kemerton, who when he was praying at his bed- 
side, "just before he died," he says, "he raised 
himself in bed and threw his arms around my 
neck and kissed me.' 5 If there is such love on 



I'll 



MEMOIR OF THE ' 



this side by the border of the grave, what must be 
the love of those little ones which have already 
passed that border, and wait on the other side for 
the coming of those they love ? Are they not 
waiting ? Might he not well say, 6 6 Who are these r ' ' 
and might not the answer be, " They are such as 
are before the throne of God." They are those 
whom "the Lamb doth lead." " And GrOn from 
their eyes doth wipe away every tear." (Eov. vii.) 
(See letters, pp. 89, 90, 83—87, 123.) 

The other expressive circumstance mentioned in 
the description of his suffering death was this : 

He was very patient," says one who was present; 
" he often took hold of a wooden bar which went across 
the head of the bed, with both hands at once, which 
made him have almost the appearance of being on a 
cross ; and he seemed as if he indeed tried to imitate the 
patience of Him Who died on the Cross for us all. No 
murmur ever escaped his lips; his hands were often 
folded as if in prayer." 

?,9qoIa §ilUM nns -gai&h odd 1 gaole gnibniw aaw noia 
This incident, like that of the children, was 
characteristic of the sufferer, inasmuch as the Cross 
of Chuist appeared for a long time to be All in All 
to him, and the intense sufferings of his death would 
naturally remind us of another most painful bed of 
death, which sanctified those sufferings. 

To say nothing of how powerfully this action 
pleaded with God, an action not of prayer only, 
but of prayer combined with agonized suffering ; in 
a lower sense, it was in itself rich with consolation 



EEV. E. A. SUCKLING. 



215 



sack as he himself ever delighted to pour into 
every bleeding heart, suggestive of the highest 
comfort to survivors who witnessed that departure 
of his gentle spirit from amidst such sufferings of 
the body to seek its rest with Chexst. One of 
the most soothing of his Sermons which we have 
left is one that combines together the two Texts 
" "Whom the Loed loveth He chasteneth, and 
scourgeth every son whom He receiveth \.\ "there 
remaineth therefore a rest to the people of God." 
m bsaohaem eoafti&m'HDih 6yi8soiqz9 loddo odT 
: aid* sjbw d$nob gnheftua fcid lo noftqhoaeb od j 

His funeral was marked by the same distinguish- 
ing and appropriate circumstances as his last days 
on earth had been. It was attended from his 
house to the grave by many of the clergy, by his 
wife and children, and by several female friends ; a 
custom not otherwise usual, became in this case 
most suitable and appropriate ; and as the proces- 
sion was winding along the rising and falling slopes 
of the ground from the parsonage to the church, 
which was situated a little lower down on the side 
of the hill, it was accompanied by weeping counte- 
nances and loud laments of the poor, who mourned 
for their own loss. For him it was impossible to 

mourn. • oggxmsfkfg dsodti hehh6aAs doidw \di&eb 
It was a fine autumnal day on that remarkable 
spot with its converging hills and woods, while the 
rainbow of autumnal tints shed on earth the pro- 
mise of heaven. The decaying year was putting on 



216 ■ 



MEMOIB OF THE 



its beauty of all hues aud shades, whereby nature 
itself seemed to give promise of more than vernal 
resurrection. And I believe all present felt with 
a heart-stirring unusual power that they had never 
otherwise known, what is expressed in the Text for 
his Sermon on All Saints' Day, within the Octave 
of which he died, — that death had indeed lost hia 
sting and was swallowed up in victory. 

" It was," said one, speaking of his own attendance on 
that occasion, " It was an unspeakable privilege, an hour 
that should do the work of years of common life ; never 
in coming years may the scene of that quiet churchyard 
be effaced from my memory." 

The Editor of these pages cannot read anything 
respecting Mm without the most sensible emotion ; 
so touching are his letters, his Sermons, the in- 
cidents of his ordinary life ; everything about him 
was so pure, so loving, so heavenly-minded ; that 
although himself but a slight acquaintance, the 
writer cannot but be most deeply affected at every 
recollection of him ; at one place only, except from 
the thought of survivors, he found it impossible to 
shed a tear, and that place was his grave. 

All is well : everything has found its place, and 
is as it should be. He lies amidst his flock, 
gathered and gathering in around him : his grave 
is placed between his Church and his School, one 
on either hand. There is a Cross upon it and a 
Chalice, and at the head are the Divine words of 



EEV. E. A. SUCKLING. 



217 



promise, " Blessed is that servant, whom his Lokd 
when He cometh shall find so doing." 

All is well, and on those hills a sacred shade 
remains, 

loi izaT sift xii hseeo'iqzo ai tedw ,awoni oaiymifro 



Those beautiful slopes will change with the 
changing year, and others will take his place and 
the places of those that now mourn, and the scenes 
of this fretful and changeful life will occupy their 
hearts ; but on this spot there breathes a holy 
peace which issues from that unseen place into 
which he hath entered, which changes not. But 
on this subject there are no words like his own 
words, when in the midst of that midnight service 
which brought in the new year, he made that 
memorable and solemn pause for prayer, and silent 
contemplation of this change which the year might 
bring, and then resuming, exclaimed, " happy 
soul, thou shalt lay thyself down to thy last sleep, 
and the Church will commit thy body to the grave 
in sure and certain hope. The heavens shall cur- 
tain thee, and the promises of God shall pillow 
thee in thy repose, a little while and the morning 
of eternity shall dawn on thee, and a day which 
hath no night." 1 

Many are lost in the mystery of his removal, 
when he seemed so calculated for the career of 
*ta ebiow enhKI erf* f^te^s/ft" *b ban ^oilrAO 



218 



MEMOIR OF THE 



good which was opening before him. But the 
ways of GrOD are not our ways, nor His thoughts 
our thoughts ; and this consideration is much 
brought before us by His taking away those on 
whose stay we looked for good ; cutting short and 
impeding that in which we hoped for continuance. 
And this seems most the case in what is most pre- 
cious ; it is the lament of the experience of old 
giving rise to ominous foreboding, 

" Ostendent terris hunc tantum fata, neque ultra 
Esse skient." 

" His soul pleased the Lord, therefore hasted He 
to take him away. This the people saw and under- 
stood not. 53 Whether it be that we are unworthy 
of the good we too feebly desire, or dwell too 
much on its accomplishment by means visible ; or 
whether it be that in other mysterious ways the 
good that God wills He brings about in answer to 
their prayers: for they yet live, and love, and 
doubtless more perfectly than they had done before : 
or may be that the blessedness of such an end 
works more powerfully among survivors for good, 
than the example of living labours could do ; or 
lastly, as he himself expresses it in his last letter, 
that they are " housed from the coming tempest," 
rescued from some evil that would otherwise cross 
their path ; — it is but for man to put his hand upon 
his mouth and adore in silence the unsearchableness 
of God's judgment, not without thankfulness, 



REV. It. A. SUCKLING. 



219 



acknowledging the awful mysteriousness of His 
ways. With regard to our departed friend himself, 
those who derive comfort from Scriptural analogies, 
may remember that this his after-life, prolonged at 
his prayer, was like the fifteen years of the good 
King Hezekiah ; and what is of far more solemn 
and holy interest, that the term of his mortal pil- 
grimage, thirty-three years, was that of One under 
Whose shadow he ever delighted to dwell. 

".taanig 9823 

eH bs-ia&d aTolaiadd ,aso J add ftaasalq Inoa aiH 
-Tabinr bm WJ33 alqoaq add aidT .^uwfi mid adjsd od 
^dfaowmi ei& aw d&dd ed di isd^oifW* ".don hoods 
ood Uswb 10 t 8Ti8ah, ^Idoal ood aw hoog 9dd 
io ; aldiarr emem \d taamdailqctroooa adi no donm 
add fi^aw anohadaym Taddo ni djsdd ad di laddadw 
od T9wgn£ m dnods sgnhd aH alliw aox) dfidd hoog 
ban t avoI hns <avd da^ ^add idi ra-xavircq Tiadd 
; arolad anoh bml ^add nsdd ^fdoahaq a-rom smUduqb 
bna n£ dons *k> aaanbaga^Id 9rld dsdd ad.^um to 
<boog toI aTOvivTira gnome ^Hnhawoq aiodr aiiow 
to ; oh fclnoo eiuodnl gniyit lo aiqrnma add imdd 
t TaddaI dajd aid ni di aaaaaiqza Ifaamid ad as ^Idsid 
^daaqnrad gnirnoo add moTi hsax/od " aus ^add dudd 
aaoxD aaiy/Taddo hlnow d^dd fiva amoa moii Lai/oaaT 
noqxr bund aid dnq od mm iril dnd ai di— - dduq iiadd 
aaanaldBdausaann add aonalia ni 9Tob& bm dduom aid 
<889iiLjHnj5dd tuodt'rrr don Jaom-ghul g ? ao£> to 



oi <9cT ^lfgrm ea dwss to t noitu 



□joy; ucr{ 8B , beifgiw 9/Bfi yBm I gqsite*! u 
hfw ,mid avTonA hsd uo\ Sad) t 97Bri* ns;fto f Jofl 
oiJ89mob aid to bnuo*f yliBb orii ni miff rfirw 

'io t eiffi Jnods gni^ixte 7i9V ^nidtemos 3BW 



"THo J ad: to 9rnjB T /l grfr nl IIb of) o? <brismxiro9 g^LteoqA 
-rno^ bfi£ oij?9raob aaoxft ni no79 b9 , iB9qqs aH .8TJ831 
-bier/firm hssoqqu* ma yIIbi9£I9^ doiriV anoiiBfoi 9aflJq-iioin 
moii Job oJ f e*i9ifio lo 397,9 erfi ni riBm a i9wof 0} /fdB 
>9tig9b q99b ^ma^ edi 37 ad o$ has 897iJom d%id 9niB8 edl 
aoo b JsriW oiiow [BioigBq yteiuq sir! ni 8B Jaowioqqu 
aoibooW 10 amooi b9V£Bo bio 9nri 9f{J n99w;tod JaBiJ 
moos ]gninxb arfi "io 100ft 9no*a b9^9qiBonii 9ift bins ( 9aiioH 
a9boo7/ nommoo bnB <9fdB* lB9b sd) dJiw t 9£fia8Jj& ;te 



APPENDIX. 



As supplemental to Mr. Suckling's Life one 
would be glad to add any little particulars that 
might compensate for deficiencies in the writer's in- 
formation, or such as might be, for other reasons, 
matter of interest. In a letter from one of Mr. 
Suckling's chief friends abroad, confirming the 
accuracy of the Memoir in general, it is added ; — 

"Marseilles. October 1 4. 
" Perhaps I may have wished, as you yourself, I doubt 
not, often have, that you had known him, and been familiar 
with him in the daily round of his domestic life, for there 
was something very striking about this, of which some 
more accurate idea might have been made public than 
you have been able to do. I often think of him amongst 
his family, perhaps as much as in his parish, for he always 
seemed to me to realize, more than I had ever seen, the 
Apostle's command, to do all in the Name of the Lord 
Jesus. He appeared even in those domestic and com- 
mon-place relations which generally are supposed unavoid- 
ably to lower a man in the eyes of others, to act from 
the same high motives and to have the same deep desires 
uppermost, as in his purely pastoral work. What a con- 
trast between the fine old carved rooms of Wood ton 
House, and the uncarpeted stone floor of the dining room 
at Bussage, with the deal table, and common wooden 
chairs, and all else in keeping. — He could not be unreal, 



222 



APPENDIX. 



he could not preach self-denial, and not daily practise it, 
even in those things which the usages of society have 
seemed to put out of the reach of its influence." 

The same correspondent proceeds to state I tha£ 
some might possibly infer from the Memoir that 
there had been at one time a greater variation in 
Mr. Suckling's religious opinions than there really 
was. Others hare in like manner observed that 
there was no material change in his views, oi h9ilq 

One who was acquainted with him. has written 
to draw attention to a point which he considers not 
duly appreciated in our estimate of Mr. Suckling's 
character, observing that his intellectual ability 
was of a very high order, and far beyond what his 
friends have supposed ; but that from his own un- 
consciousness of this, his remarkable humility, and 
self-depreciation.'such his great mental superiority 
was not observed. It may be so. Talent is most 
evinced in the power of means to attain any desired 
end. And when, as in this case, the one great 
absorbing object of pursuit is the devotion of the 
heart and the gaining of others to God : those 
natural powers are themselves so filled with Divine 
light, that in the attainment of that great unseen 
object they are themselves not estimated. For 
" The love of the Lord," as says the son of Sirach. 
" passeth all things for illumination." It may. 
for instance, be owing to these causes that in his 
Sermons and such compositions for Ins own use— 
from a low estimate of his own powers, and from 
all those powers being bent on the attainment sdB 



APPENDIX. 



223 



the one end of religious edification — he seems so 
much to hare availed himself of the labours of 
others ; seizing with eagerness materials from every 
quarter, every sentiment and word of efficacy that 
came to hand, blending them with his own more 
energetic and spiritual thoughts, and moulding them 
to that end. 

Similar observations may be in great measure ap- 
plied to another point in Mr. Suckling's character, 
which this acquaintance considers worthy of notice, 
— his great moral courage in speaking to persons 
of their faults, whatever their station in life might 
be. Certainly courage is one of the most marked 
features in his natural character, but the fact is, 
that from that very singular love, with which God 
had blessed him, his courage on such occasions is 
little to be observed from the predominance of the 
former. For it scarcely appears a matter of cou- 
rage to rebuke, when it is done with such affec- 
tionate gentleness as unites the more to oneself 
the person reproved. Thus, it may be, in the same 
manner as with his intellectual powers before al- 
luded to, that his natural courage was not at once 
noticed or perceived ; the one being lost sight of in 
his spiritual illumination, the other in his tender 
charit$.lo nos orfr ayss *\cijioJ adtlo 

One cannot but allude to another point men- 
tioned by a correspondent, what he speaks of as a 
lively enjoyment and keen sense of the ludicrous, 
seen under his habitual self-restraint. Perhaps 
there was more of painful effort and constraint in 



224 APPENDIX. 

his character for the first two years alter Ordina- 
tion than at a later period. The writer has heard 
it observed that at Kemerton he was never seen 
to laugh but with his dog or a child. However 
that may be, no doubt the deep sense he had of sin 
produced on his spirit some pressure of this kind 
for a time ; affliction led him to the home of the 
afflicted, and his natural disposition broke out 
again under that relief. 

But not the least delightful part in Mr. Suck- 
ling's history is his whole connection and friend- 
ship with one who first was the means of in- 
troducing him into the pastoral office. A slight 
indication of this may be furnished in the follow- 
ing letter. So kind a friend would evidently not 
allow any such imputation to rest upon him as re- 
ported change of principles, without speaking to 
him on the subject ; and it will be seen that what 
has been said in Mr. Suckling's defence in the first 
edition of his Life is very much to the same effect 
as his own explanation here given. Having been 
asked his opinion of a brother clergyman, and say- 
ing in reply that he had not seen him for three 
years, he thus proceeds : 

" Bussage. March 6th, 1850. 
" And what a change has not that made in religious 
opinions ! so that I find it very difficult to speak of him. 
High Churchmen seem splitting up into sections, and, as 
such, I feel less and less inclination to fraternize with 
them ; for my own opinions I find modifying and chang- 
ing. Maskell I feel no sympathy with. I like what I 



APPENDIX. 



225 



have read of Wilberforce's very much. I think the 
S. Saviour's Clergy are going, if not on the boundary of 
Romanism, and that some warning voice was needed for 
the people of Leeds," &c. 

It is apparently to this that the next letter 
alludes. 

" Bussage. March 13^, 1850. 

" My dear , 

" 1 thank you for the kindness with which you 
have answered my questions, and also for your remarks ; 
and I would not trouble you with anything in return, 
only that I do not quite understand you. When I said 
I found my own opinions changing, I did not mean 
to imply — what you seem to take for granted, — that I 
was doing something not right in principle. Would you 
have the kindness to tell me in what way you consider 
me under 4 a peculiar local temptation J to do so, that I 
may earnestly consider the matter ; for it would be 
grievous if I were doing wrong to the one cause of God's 
Church. I had no idea any one had spoken of me, or 
known of me sufficiently to judge that I was taking a 
downward and retrograde course. Thank God ! my con- 
science witnesses to me this is not the case. Nor can I 
think you believe it, otherwise you would have given me 
friendly advice, I am persuaded ; for none have more 
right to do so than you. Still, I should like to know 
why it is so thought. Is it because I am receding further 
from Rome, and think there is a greater gulf between us 
than I once did ? — that the question between us is not 
one only of jurisdiction, (as I viewed it at Kemerton,) 
but of vital doctrine ? — or because I am less willing to 
be guided by mediaeval times than primitive ? for it is 
those times high Churchmen now eulogise. I am willing 
Q 



226 



APPENDIX. 



to take S. Augustine as an expounder of the deep things 
of God, and S. Chrysostom, — from both of whom I have 
learned to preach ex tempore ; but I hesitate about even 
S. Gregory the Great, and later writers. I am sure it is 
not the primitive times that the S. Saviour's Clergy 

follow ; and though they profess to follow , 

neither do they him. As far as it is lawful to admire 
man, I admire him, but yet hesitate to call him father ; 
though I think the time is come for a new name to dis- 
tinguish such, as agree with him, and yet repudiate High 
Churchmanship ; for assuredly I must think that, if any 
are * driven/ as it is called, to Rome by the late decision, 
it is because they were Romanists in heart before, and 
were not ■ driven,' but ' drawn ! there by their hearts' 
affections. If I may venture to speak of myself, I would 
say I find myself increasing more in love to God and 
man, for His sake Who died for me; and with that 
arises a deeper sense than I ever had before of my own 
sinfulness and vileness in His sight, and consequently 
His goodness in calling such as me from paths of dark- 
ness, to such light as He has vouchsafed me. Thus, then, 
does His Spirit witness with mine, that I am (praise to 
Him) in no ' downward path,' but on one w T hich, if my 
recklessness hinder not, will brighten more and more as 
I walk in it, till I reach that * perfect day ' when I shall 
see Him i as He is,' Who so loved me as to be made sin 
for me, that I might be made the righteousness of God 
in Him. 

" Ever yours, dear , 

" R. A. Suckling." 

ax itruxt i£9T§ ieol I ,yl99Ti suds -gahhw ^m 9auox3> 

This his opinion of the doctrine vitiated in the 
Church of Rome he thus strongly expresses to the 
same in another letter. 



APPENDIX. 



227 



" Sept. 20th, 1850. 

" Some one has sent me Mr. A 's book. Have 

you seen it ? He says he has now found out that the 
Chair of the Chief Shepherd is indeed f as the shadow of 
a great rock in a weary land.' Do you think, if he had 
ever experienced our Saviour to be such, he would ever 
have applied these words to the Pope ? Surely he never 
would ; and this is the history and the end, 1 1 fear, of 
all secessions." 

It is painful in such a book as this to allow any 
thought of controversy to sully that niirror of love 
which his life exhibits, but it is important as part 
of his history and character to show how it was our 
Lord's Incarnation which brought peace and love 
to his soul, and became so fruitful in all good. 
His own feeling of some controversial writings he 
thus expresses to the same valued friend. 

" May 15th, 1850. 

" I fear they will do more harm to the truth than they 
possibly can do good, for doubting minds and tender 
consciences are real things, though that paper would 
ridicule such an idea ; and I am persuaded that, did it 
fall in the way of such, it would bias the mind the other 
way, from the feeling that the writer was using carnal 
weapons to fight his cause, and that a cause which re- 
quired such weapons could not be of God. 

" Excuse my writing thus freely. I feel great truth is 
at stake, but I feel and fear that that truth may be more 
marred by the uncharitable spirit of some who advocate 

1 The word is obliterated in the MS. 



228 



APPENDIX. 



it, than by those who openly oppose it. You know I do 
not allude to you ; for I have ever admired, and tried to 
imitate, the kind and Christian-like spirit in which you 
have met those that oppose themselves." 

To another correspondent in like manner he 
writes thus at a later period. 

To the Rev. J. C. 

"Jan. 20th, 1851. 

" My dear Sir, 

****** 

" Thank you for your kind inquiries after my sick 
household ; all but Mrs. Suckling are well, and she con- 
tinues poorly, still not able to leave her room. We are 
in the hands of a merciful Fathek, with the assurance, 
that whom He loves, He chastens, and to them that love 
Him, He will make all things to work together for good. 
In this belief, I leave all to Him ; for did I exclaim with 
Jacob of old, 1 All these things are against me,' I might 
soon have to lay my hand on my mouth, and say, 6 1 have 
spoken once, I will proceed no further ; for I perceive 
that all is well/ 

" Regarding the times : must we not hang up our 
hearts, and weep for the sad things which are happen- 
ing ? How are they to be remedied ? easily asked, but 
not so easily answered. 

" Lopping off branches will not do, nor attacks upon 
the fruit they bear : these but annoy and harden— never 
convince. At the root the evil lies ; make that good, and 
the fruit will no longer be corrupt. But of the error of 
doctrine, what is the root ? — there lies the matter. In 
my humble opinion, it is in the doctrine of Justification. 
Get Mr. — - rightly to apprehend that, to receive it, 



APPENDIX. 



229 



and he will be an ornament to the Church, not a troubler 
of our peace; and so with all others. 

" With our united kind remembrances to your family, 
" Believe me, your's in our blessed Lord, 

"R. A. Suckling." 



And now in bringing this Memoir again to a 
close, we pause and linger yet again upon the 
threshold ; and the various remarks which it has 
called forth seem to require some further allusion. 
The letters, incidents, and various sources of in- 
formation which come before one engaged in writing 
his life have indeed deeply impressed him though 
comparatively a stranger. He understands that 
admiration and love which his friends entertained 
more and more intensely according to their degrees 
of intimacy with him. "Were it not for this his 
Biographer would have supposed that some sympa- 
thetic chord had been touched peculiar to his own 
heart which had so much interested, so strongly 
affected him. But let us pass from this — the inner 
world where we all live in the unseen — to what 
is more on the surface. 

His character itself was indeed one of no ordi- 
nary kind — nay one of even romantic interest; 
something there was in it which throws a charm 
over daily life and ordinary Parochial ministrations. 
So must it have been wherever his lot had been 
cast ; but to his later friends his memory in their 
minds has become associated with the singularly 



230 



APPENDIX. 



beautiful and wild spot where he was last at anchor ; 
and with the peculiar grace and calm of the Church, 
with its Churchyard and School, to which none will 
be found like. Like the setting of a picture it has 
become blended with the memory of him. As to 
objectors — and on what ground are they not found ? 
let it be remembered that his character has not 
been held forth as one throughout suited for imita- 
tion, or as altogether faultless. But the faults 
which some would find in him, are in fact merely 
constitutional and physical diversities of character. 
Some in estimating others complain of the violet 
that it is not the sunflower ; or of the sunflower 
that it is not the rose ; or of the rose that it is not 
the fruit-blossom. Some who object would not do 
so if they knew him better. As for instance that 
the Priestly character is lost in the tenderness 
of the man. There was something in him that 
greatly counteracts such a statement. Consider 
him for instance while his health was failing i most 
persons would look on such as a time and reason 
for self-relaxation ; not so with him, his health 
giving way was but a warning that the night cometh 
when no man can work ; and he urges it in his 
letters as a plea not for remitting but for increasing 
his labours. When writing to Mrs. Suckling who 
with his children was at the sea side a little before 
his death, he expresses for a moment a natural feel- 
ing in longing for the rest and refreshment of the 
breezes of the sea and the company of his children ; 
but the thought is expressed only instantly to be put 



APPENDIX. 



231 



down with the reflection that time is short, and that 
eternity is long. Or again, we feel that greater 
care and indulgence of the body is but natural 
when it is feeble and declining ; but his medical 
attendant, in giving an account of his death, men- 
tions that it was brought on by the neglect of ordi- 
nary food in tending on the sick. His tenderness 
of spirit therefore was such as could endure hard- 
ness as a faithful soldier of Jesus Christ. 

There was, moreover, something peculiar in him 
which in another might not have been such as we 
wish, but if it had been thwarted in him it would 
have stopped his mode of doing good, which carried 
him upon the whole most successfully to the end he 
had in view, and that end the highest and best 
of all. Nor is it to be forgotten how much in 
Divine and Apostolic charities, such as one reads of 
in the Gospels and the Epistles, there is of human 
compassions. 

It will be sufficient to the writer of these pages 
if his gentle and peaceful spirit may go forth into 
the troubled world which he has left, and do some- 
thing to promote that love and peace for which 
he laboured. 

"Would that we were all more like him in that 
which of all things is most worthy of imitation ! 
May the quickening power of his example even now 
be to some of us like a living body stretched forth 
on the dead. And this volume cannot better con- 
clude than with a passage from a letter of his most 
intimate friend, which was before omitted. 



232 



APPENDIX. 



" It seemed to me," he writes, " when I could go down 
to him, as though, if I may reverently say so, a virtue 
came out of him upon me. I used to come home blessed 
and elevated by simple contact with him. I had the 
great blessing of spending the last Easter week with him 
in very close intercourse, and I remember for weeks after- 
wards the hallowing effect of those few days upon me. 
I believe that of late his whole life was most saintly, and 
that he lived habitually in a peace that truly passes un- 
derstanding." 

I will add in the words of the same friend, 

" May our end be as his ! may we all live as he 
lived, with such single-hearted devotion to God !" 



JOSEPH MASTERS AND CO., PRINTERS, ALDERSGATE STREET. 



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